Mr.  Carteret 


"  It  '•»  one  of  the  smartest  packs  in  England  " 


Mr.  Carteret 

»•- 

and  Others 

by 

David  Gray 

Author  of  "  Gallops  I,"  "  Gallops  II,"  etc. 


New  York 

The  Century  Co, 

1910 


PR 

4729 
62 


Copyright,  1899, 1907, 1908,  1909,  1910, 
by  THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Copyright,  1904,  1905,  by  THK  METROPOLITAN 
MAGAZINE  COMPANY 

Putlitfud  Afarck,  igro 


THE   DE  V1NNI 


To  M.  G.  G. 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

i  MR.  CARTERET    AND    His    FELLOW 

AMERICANS  ABROAD      ....        3 

ii  How  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED       .     .      37 


in  MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE  WITH  A 

LOCKET 87 

iv  THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS   .     .    .  123 

v  THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE    .     .     .    .  157 

vi  THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY  ...  185 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"  It  's  one  of  the  smartest  packs  in  England  " 

Frontispiece 

11  A  little  more  in  the  middle  " 23 


The  vast  scarlet-coated  throng  that  surged  toward 

the  gate 43 

She  was  not  dead.     He  realized  it  when  he  bent 

over  her 97 

Evanston  and  his  wife  were  sitting  side  by  side 

upon  the  couch 151 

The  lawyer's  mouth  became  grim 175 

There  was  a  crash  of  glass 1 79 

"  Did   you   remove  the   shoes   of  the  honorable 

young  foreign  lady  ?" 215 


MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 
FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD 


MR.   CARTERET  AND  HIS  FELLOW 
AMERICANS  ABROAD 

IT  must  have  been  highly  interesting," 
observed  Mrs.  Archie  Brawle;  "so 
much  pleasanter  than  a  concert." 

"Rather!"  replied  Lord  Frederic.  "It 
was  ripping!" 

Mrs.  Ascott-Smith  turned  to  Mr.  Car- 
teret.  She  had  been  listening  to  Lord 
Frederic  Westcote,  who  had  just  come 
down  from  town  where  he  had  seen  the 
Wild  West  show.  "Is  it  so  ?"  she  asked. 
"Have  you  ever  seen  them  ?"  By  "them" 
she  meant  the  Indians. 

Mr.  Carteret  nodded. 

"It  seems  so  odd,"  continued  Mrs. 
Archie  Brawle,  "that  they  should  ride 
without  saddles.  Is  it  a  pose?" 

"No,  I  fancy  not,"  replied  Lord  Fred- 
eric. 


4  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

"They  must  get  very  tired  without  stir- 
rups," insisted  Mrs.  Archie.  "But  per- 
haps they  never  ride  very  long  at  a  time." 

"That  is  possible,"  said  Lord  Frederic 
doubtfully.  "They  are  only  on  about 
twenty  minutes  in  the  show." 

Mr.  Pringle,  the  curate,  who  had  hap- 
pened in  to  pay  his  monthly  call  upon 
Mrs.  Ascott-Smith,  took  advantage  of  the 
pause.  "Of  course,  I  am  no  horseman," 
he  began  apprehensively,  "and  I  have 
never  seen  the  red  Indians,  either  in  their 
native  wilds  or  in  a  show,  but  I  have  read 
not  a  little  about  them,  and  I  have  gath- 
ered that  they  almost  live  on  horseback." 

Major  Hammerslea  reached  toward  the 
tea  table  for  another  muffin  and  hemmed. 
"It  is  a  very  different  thing,"  he  said 
with  heavy  impressiveness.  "It  is  a  very 
different  thing." 

The  curate  looked  expectant,  as  if  be- 
lieving that  his  remarks  were  going  to  be 
noticed.  But  nothing  was  farther  from 
the  Major's  mind. 

"What  is  so  very  different?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Ascott-Smith,  after  a  pause  had 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD         5 

made  it  clear  that  the  Major  had  ignored 
Pringle. 

"It  is  one  thing,  my  dear  Madame,  to 
ride  a  stunted,  half -starved  pony,  as  you 
say,  'bareback,'  and  another  thing  to  ride 
a  conditioned  British  hunter  (he  pro- 
nounced it  huntaw)  without  a  saddle.  I 
must  say  that  the  latter  is  an  impossi- 
bility." The  oracle  came  to  an  end  and 
the  material  Major  began  on  the  muffin. 

There  was  an  approving  murmur  of 
assent.  The  Major  was  the  author  of 
"Schooling  and  Riding  British  Hunters" ; 
however,  it  was  not  only  his  authority 
which  swayed  the  company,  but  individual 
conviction.  Of  the  dozen  people  in  the 
room,  excepting  Pringle,  all  rode  to 
hounds  with  more  or  less  enthusiasm,  and 
no  one  had  ever  seen  any  one  hunting 
without  a  saddle  and  no  one  had  ever  ex- 
perienced any  desire  to  try  the  experi- 
ment. Obviously  it  was  an  absurdity. 

"Nevertheless,"  observed  Lord  Fred- 
eric, "I  must  say  their  riding  was  very 
creditable — quite  as  good  as  one  sees  on 
any  polo  field  in  England." 


6  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

Major  Hammerslea  looked  at  him  se- 
verely, as  if  his  youth  were  not  wholly  an 
excuse.  "It  is,  as  I  said,"  he  observed. 
"It  is  one  thing  to  ride  an  American  pony 
and  another  to  ride  a  British  hunter. 
One  requires  horsemanship,  the  other  does 
not.  And  horsemanship,"  he  continued, 
"which  properly  is  the  guiding  of  a  horse 
across  country,  requires  years  of  study 
and  experience." 

Lord  Frederic  looked  somewhat  uncon- 
vinced but  he  said  nothing. 

"Of  course  the  dear  Major  (she  called 
it  deah  Majaw)  is  unquestionably  right," 
said  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith. 

"Undoubtedly,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "I 
suppose  that  he  has  often  seen  Indians 
ride?" 

"Have  you  often  seen  these  Indians 
ride?"  inquired  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith  of  the 
Major. 

"Do  you  mean  Indians  or  the  Red  Men 
of  North  America?"  replied  the  Major. 
"And  do  you  mean  upon  ponies  in  a  show 
or  upon  British  hunters?" 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD         7 

"Which  do  you  mean?"  asked  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith. 

"I  suppose  that  I  mean  American  In- 
dians," said  Mr.  Carteret,  "and  either 
upon  ponies  or  upon  British  hunters." 

"No,"  said  the  Major,  "I  have  not. 
Have  you  ?" 

"Not  upon  British  hunters,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret. 

"But  do  you  think  that  they  could?" 
inquired  Lord  Frederic. 

"It  would  be  foolish  of  me  to  express 
an  opinion,"  replied  Mr.  Carteret,  "be- 
cause, in  the  first  place,  I  have  never 
seen  them  ride  British  hunters  over 
fences—" 

"They  would  come  off  at  the  first  ob- 
stacle," observed  the  Major,  more  in  sor- 
row than  in  anger. 

"And  in  the  second  place,"  continued 
Mr.  Carteret,  "I  am  perhaps  naturally 
prejudiced  in  behalf  of  my  fellow  coun- 
trymen." 

Mrs.  Ascott-Smith  looked  at  him  anx- 
iously. His  sister  had  married  a  British 


8  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

peer.  "But  you  Americans  are  quite  dis- 
tinct from  the  red  Indians,"  she  said. 
"We  quite  understand  that  nowadays. 
To  be  sure,  my  dear  Aunt — "  She 
stopped. 

"Rather!"  said  Mrs.  Archie  Brawle. 
"You  don't  even  intermarry  with  them, 
do  you  ?" 

"That  is  a  matter  of  personal  taste," 
said  Mr.  Carteret.  "There  is  no  law 
against  it." 

"But  nobody  that  one  knows—"  be- 
gan Mrs.  Ascott- Smith. 

"There  was  John  Rolfe,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret;  "he  was  a  very  well  known 
chap." 

"Do  you  know  him?"  asked  Mrs. 
Brawle. 

The  curate  sniggered.  His  hour  of 
triumph  had  come.  "Rolfe  is  dead,"  he 
said. 

"Really!"  said  Mrs.  Brawle,  coldly. 
"It  had  quite  slipped  my  mind.  You  see 
I  never  read  the  papers  during  the  hunt- 
ing. But  is  his  wife  received?" 

"I  believe  that  she  was,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD         9 

The  curate  was  still  sniggering-  and 
Mrs.  Brawle  put  her  glass  in  her  eye  and 
looked  at  him.  Then  she  turned  to  Mr. 
Carteret.  "But  all  this,"  she  said,  "of 
course,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  ques- 
tion. Do  you  think  that  these  red  Indians 
could  ride  bareback  across  our  country?" 

"As  I  said  before,"  replied  Mr.  Car- 
teret, "it  would  be  silly  of  me  to  express 
an  opinion,  but  I  should  be  interested  in 
seeing  them  try  it." 

"I  have  a  topping  idea!"  cried  Lord 
Frederic.  He  was  an  enthusiastic,  sim- 
ple-minded fellow. 

"You  must  tell  us,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith. 

"Let  us  have  them  down,  and  take  them 
hunting !" 

"How  exciting!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith.  "What  sport!" 

The  Major  looked  at  her  reprovingly. 
"It  would  be  as  I  said,"  he  observed. 

"But  it  would  be  rather  interesting," 
said  Mrs.  Brawle. 

"It  might,"  said  the  Major,  "it  might 
be  interesting." 


io  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

"It  would  be  ripping !"  said  Lord  Fred- 
eric. "But  how  can  we  manage  it?" 

"I  '11  mount  them,"  said  the  Major  with 
a  grim  smile.  "My  word!  They  shall 
have  the  pick  of  my  stable  though  I  have 
to  spend  a  month  rebreaking  horses  that 
have  run  away." 

"But  it  is  n't  the  difficulty  of  mounting 
them,"  said  Lord  Frederic.  "You  see 
I  've  never  met  any  of  these  chaps."  He 
turned  to  Mr.  Carteret  with  a  sudden  in- 
spiration. "Are  any  of  them  friends  of 
yours?"  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Ascott-Smith  looked  anxiously  at 
Mr.  Carteret,  as  if  she  feared  that  it 
would  develop  that  some  of  the  people  in 
the  show  were  his  cousins. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  don't  think  so,  al- 
though I  may  have  met  some  of  them  in 
crossing  the  reservations.  But  I  once 
went  shooting  with  Grady,  one  of  the 
managers  of  the  show." 

"Better  yet !"  said  Lord  Frederic.  "Do 
you  think  that  he  would  come  and  bring 
some  of  them  down?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  he  would,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD        n 

He  knew  that  the  showman  was  strong  in 
Grady — as  well  as  the  sportsman. 

The  Major  rose  to  go  to  the  billiard 
room.  "I  have  one  piece  of  advice  to  give 
you,"  he  said.  "This  prank  is  harmless 
enough,  but  establish  a  definite  under- 
standing with  this  fellow  that  you  are  not 
to  be  liable  in  damages  for  personal  in- 
juries which  his  Indians  may  receive. 
Explain  to  him  that  it  is  not  child's  play 
and  have  him  put  it  in  writing." 

"You  mean  to  have  him  execute  a  kind 
of  release?"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Precisely  that,"  said  the  Major.  "I 
was  once  sued  for  twenty  pounds  by  a 
groom  that  fell  off  my  best  horse  and  let 
him  run  away,  and  damme,  the  fellow 
recovered."  He  bowed  to  the  ladies  and 
left  the  room. 

"Of  course  we  can  fix  all  that  up,"  said 
Lord  Frederic.  "The  old  chap  is  a  bit 
overcautious  nowadays,  but  how  can  we 
get  hold  of  this  fellow  Grady?" 

"I  '11  wire  him  at  once,  if  you  wish," 
said  Mr.  Carteret,  and  he  went  to  the 
writing  table.  "When  do  you  want  him 


12  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

to  come  down?"  he  asked,  as  he  began  to 
write. 

"We  might  take  them  out  with  the 
Quorn  on  Saturday,"  said  Lord  Fred- 
eric, "but  the  meet  is  rather  far  for  us. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  have  them 
on  Thursday  with  Charley  Ploversdale's 
hounds." 

Mr.  Carteret  hesitated  a  moment. 
"Would  n't  Ploversdale  be  apt  to  be  fussy 
about  experiments?  He  's  rather  con- 
servative, you  know,  about  the  way  people 
are  turned  out.  I  saw  him  send  a  man 
home  one  day  who  was  out  without  a  hat. 
It  was  an  American  who  was  afraid  that 
hats  made  his  hair  come  out." 

"Pish,"  said  Lord  Frederic,  "Charley 
Ploversdale  is  mild  as  a  dove." 

"Suit  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
"I  '11  make  it  Thursday.  One  more  ques- 
tion," he  added.  "How  many  shall  I  ask 
him  to  bring  down  ?"  At  this  moment  the 
Major  came  into  the  room  again.  He 
had  mislaid  his  eyeglasses. 

"I  should  think  that  a  dozen  would  be 
about  the  right  number,"  said  Lord  Fred- 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       13 

eric,  replying  to  Mr.  Carteret.  "It  would 
be  very  imposing." 

"Too  many!"  said  the  Major.  "We 
must  mount  them  on  good  horses  and  I 
don't  want  my  entire  stable  ruined  by  men 
who  have  never  lepped  a  fence." 

"I  think  the  Major  is  right  about  the 
matter  of  numbers,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
"How  would  three  do?" 

"Make  it  three,"  said  the  Major. 

Before  dinner  was  over  a  reply  came 
from  Grady  saving  that  he  and  three 
bucks  would  be  pleased  to  arrive  Thurs- 
day morning  prepared  for  a  hunting 
party. 

This  took  place  on  Monday,  and  at 
various  times  during  Tuesday  and 
Wednesday  Mr.  Carteret  gave  the  sub- 
ject thought.  By  Thursday  morning  his 
views  had  ripened.  He  ordered  his  tea 
and  eggs  to  be  served  in  his  room  and 
came  down  a  little  past  ten  dressed  in 
knickerbockers  and  an  old  shooting  coat. 
He  wandered  into  the  dining-room  and 
found  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith  sitting  by  the 
fire  entertaining  Lord  Frederic,  as  he 


14  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

went  to  and  from  the  sideboard  in  search 
of  things  to  eat. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Mr.  Carteret, 
hoarsely. 

Lord  Frederic  looked  around  and  as  he 
noticed  Mr.  Carteret's  clothes  his  face 
showed  surprise. 

"Hello !"  he  said,  "you  had  better  hurry 
and  change,  or  you  will  be  late.  We  have 
to  start  in  half  an  hour  to  meet  Grady." 

Mr.  Carteret  coughed.  "I  don't  think 
that  I  can  go  out  to-day.  It  is  a  great 
disappointment." 

"Not  going  hunting?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith.  "What  is  the  matter?" 

"I  have  a  bad  cold,"  said  Mr.  Carteret 
miserably. 

"But,  my  dear  fellow,"  exclaimed 
Lord  Frederic,  "it  will  do  your  cold  a 
world  of  good !" 

"Not  a  cold  like  mine,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. 

"But  this  is  the  day,  don't  you  know  ?" 
said  Lord  Frederic.  "How  am  I  going  to 
manage  things  without  you  ?" 

"All  that  you  have  to  do  is  to  meet 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       15 

them  at  the  station  and  take  them  to  the 
meet,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "Everything 
else  has  been  arranged." 

"But  I  'm  awfully  disappointed,"  said 
Lord  Frederic.  "I  had  counted  on  you  to 
help,  don't  you  see,  and  introduce  them  to 
Ploversdale.  It  would  be  more  graceful 
for  an  American  to  do  it  than  for  me. 
You  understand?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "I  under- 
stand. It  's  a  great  disappointment,  but 
I  must  bear  it  philosophically." 

Mrs.  Ascott-Smith  looked  at  him  sym- 
pathetically, and  he  coughed  twice.  "You 
are  suffering,"  she  said.  "Freddy,  you 
really  must  not  urge  him  to  expose  him- 
self. Have  you  a  pain  here?"  she  in- 
quired, touching  herself  in  the  region  of 
the  pleura. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "it  is  just 
there,  but  I  daresay  that  it  will  soon  be 
better." 

"I  am  afraid  not,"  said  his  hostess. 
"This  is  the  way  pneumonia  begins. 
You  must  take  a  medicine  that  I  have. 
They  say  that  it  is  quite  wonderful  for 


16  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

inflammatory  colds.  I  '11  send  Hodgson 
for  it,"  and  she  touched  the  bell. 

"Please,  please  don't  take  that 
trouble,'*  entreated  Mr.  Carteret. 

"But  you  must  take  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith.  "They  call  it  Broncholine. 
You  pour  it  in  a  tin  and  inhale  it  or 
swallow  it,  I  forget  which,  but  it  's  very 
«fficacious.  They  used  it  on  Teddy's  pony 
when  it  was  sick.  The  little  creature  died, 
but  that  was  because  they  gave  it  too 
much,  or  not  enough,  I  forget  which." 

Hodgson  appeared  and  Mrs.  Ascott- 
Smith  gave  directions  about  the  Broncho- 
line. 

"I  thank  you  very  much,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret  humbly.  "I  '11  go  to  my  room 
and  try  it  at  once." 

"That 's  a  good  chap !"  said  Lord  Fred- 
eric, "perhaps  you  will  feel  so  much  better 
that  you  can  join  us." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Carteret  gloomily, 
"or  it  may  work  as  it  did  on  the  pony." 
And  he  left  the  room. 

After  Hodgson  had  departed  from  his 
chamber  leaving  explicit  directions  as  to 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       17 

how  and  how  not  to  use  the  excellent 
Broncholine,  Mr.  Carteret  poured  a  quan- 
tity of  it  from  the  bottle  and  threw  it  out 
of  the  window,  resolving  to  be  on  the  safe 
side.  Then  he  looked  at  his  boots  and 
his  pink  coat  and  white  leathers,  which 
were  laid  out  upon  the  bed.  "I  don't 
think  there  can  be  any  danger,"  he 
thought,  "if  I  turn  up  after  they  have 
started.  I  loathe  stopping  in  all  day." 
He  dressed  leisurely,  ordered  his  second 
horse  to  be  sent  on,  and  some  time 
after  the  rest  of  the  household  had  gone 
to  the  meet  he  sallied  forth.  As  he  knew 
the  country  and  the  coverts  which  Lord 
Ploversdale  would  draw,  he  counted  on 
joining  the  tail  of  the  hunt,  thus  keep- 
ing out  of  sight.  He  inquired  of  a  rustic 
if  he  had  seen  hounds  pass  and  receiving 
"no"  for  an  answer,  he  jogged  on  at  a 
faster  trot,  fearing  that  the  hunt  might 
have  gone  away  in  some  other  direction. 
As  he  came  around  a  bend  in  the  road,  he 
saw  four  women  riding  toward  him,  and 
as  they  drew  near,  he  saw  that  they  were 
Lady  Violet  Weatherbone  and  her  three 


i8  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

daughters.  These  young  ladies  were 
known  as  the  Three  Guardsmen,  a  sobri- 
quet not  wholly  inappropriate;  for,  as 
Lord  Frederic  described  them,  they  were 
"big-boned,  upstanding  fillies,"  between 
twenty-five  and  thirty  and  very  hard 
goers  across  any  country,  and  always 
together. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Mr.  Carteret, 
bowing.  "I  suppose  the  hounds  are  close 
by?"  It  was  a  natural  assumption,  as 
Lady  Violet  on  hunting  days  was  never 
very  far  from  the  hounds. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  responded,  and 
her  tone  further  implied  that  she  did  not 
care. 

Mr.  Carteret  hesitated  a  moment.  "Is 
anything  the  matter?"  he  asked.  "Has 
anything  happened  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Violet  frankly, 
"something  has  happened."  Here  the 
daughters  modestly  turned  their  horses 
away. 

"Some  one,"  continued  Lady  Violet, 
"brought  savages  to  the  meet."  She 
paused  impressively.  . 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       19 

"Not  really!"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  It 
was  all  that  he  could  think  of  to  say. 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Violet,  "and  while  it 
would  have  mattered  little  to  me,  it  was 
impossible — "  She  motioned  with  her 
head  toward  the  three  maidens,  and 
paused. 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "but 
do  I  quite  understand?" 

"At  the  first  I  thought,"  said  Lady 
Violet,  "that  they  were  attired  in  painted 
fleshings,  but  upon  using  my  glass,  it  was 
clear  that  I  was  mistaken.  Otherwise,  I 
should  have  brought  them  away  at  the 
first  moment." 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "It  is  most 
unfortunate !" 

"It  is,  indeed !"  said  Lady  Violet ;  "but 
the  matter  will  not  be  allowed  to  drop. 
They  were  brought  to  the  meet  by  that 
young  profligate,  Lord  Frederic  West- 
cote." 

"You  amaze  me,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
He  bowed,  started  his  horse,  and  jogged 
along  for  five  minutes,  then  he  turned 
to  the  right  upon  a  crossroad  and  sud- 


20  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

denly  found  himself  with  hounds.  They 
were  feathering  excitedly  about  the 
mouth  of  a  tile  drain  into  which  the 
fox  had  evidently  gone.  No  master, 
huntsmen  or  whips  were  in  sight,  but 
sitting  wet  and  mud-daubed  upon  horses 
dripping  with  muddy  water  were  Grady 
dressed  in  cowboy  costume  and  three 
naked  Indians.  Mr.  Carteret  glanced 
about  over  the  country  and  understood. 
They  had  swum  the  brook  at  the  place 
where  it  ran  between  steep  clay  banks 
and  the  rest  of  the  field  had  gone 
around  to  the  bridge.  As  he  looked  to- 
ward the  south,  he  saw  Lord  Ploversdale 
riding  furiously  toward  him  followed  by 
Smith,  the  huntsman.  Grady  had  not 
recognized  Mr.  Carteret  turned  out  in 
pink  as  he  was,  and  for  the  moment  the 
latter  decided  to  remain  incognito. 

Before  Lord  Ploversdale,  Master  of 
Fox-hounds,  reached  the  road,  he  began 
waving  his  whip.  He  appeared  excited. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  riding  upon  my 
hounds?"  he  shouted.  He  said  this  in 
several  ways  with  various  accompanying 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       21 

phrases,  but  neither  the  Indians  nor 
Grady  seemed  to  notice  him.  It  occurred  to 
Mr.  Carteret  that,  although  Lord  Plovers- 
dale's  power  of  expression  was  wonderful 
for  England,  it  nevertheless  fell  short 
of  Arizona  standards.  Then,  however, 
he  noticed  that  Grady  was  absorbed  in 
adjusting  a  kodak  camera,  with  which  he 
was  evidently  about  to  take  a  picture  of 
the  Indians  alone  with  the  hounds.  He 
drew  back  in  order  both  to  avoid  being  in 
the  field  of  the  picture  and  to  avoid  too 
close  proximity  with  Lord  Ploversdale  as 
he  came  over  the  fence  into  the  road. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir !"  shouted  the 
enraged  Master  of  Fox-hounds,  as  he 
pulled  up  his  horse. 

"A  little  more  in  the  middle,"  replied 
Grady,  still  absorbed  in  taking  the  picture. 

Lord  Ploversdale  hesitated.  He  was 
speechless  with  surprise  for  the  moment. 

Grady  pressed  the  button  and  began 
putting  up  the  machine. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  riding  on  my 
hounds,  you  and  these  persons?"  de- 
manded Lord  Ploversdale. 


22  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

"We  did  n't,"  said  Grady  amicably, 
"but  if  your  bunch  of  dogs  don't  know 
enough  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  a  horse, 
they  ought  to  learn." 

Lord  Ploversdale  looked  aghast  and 
Smith,  the  huntsman,  pinched  himself  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  not  dreaming. 

"Many  thanks  for  your  advice,"  said 
Lord  Ploversdale.  "May  I  inquire  who 
you  and  your  friends  may  be?" 

"I  'm  James  Grady,"  said  that  gentle- 
man. "This,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
Indian  nearest,  "is  Chief  Hole-in-the- 
Ground  of  the  Olgallala  Sioux.  Him  in 
the  middle  is  Mr.  Jim  Snake,  and  the  one 
beyond  is  Chief  Skytail,  a  Pawnee." 

"Thank  you,  that  is  very  interesting," 
said  Lord  Ploversdale,  with  polite  irony. 
"Now  will  you  kindly  take  them  home?" 

"See  here,"  said  Grady,  strapping  the 
camera  to  his  saddle,  "I  was  invited  to 
this  hunt,  regular,  and  if  you  hand  me 
out  any  more  hostile  talk — "  He 
paused. 

"Who  invited  you?"  inquired  Lord 
Ploversdale. 


"A  little  more  in  the  middle" 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       25 

"One  of  your  own  bunch,"  said  Grady, 
"Lord  Frederic  Westcote.  I  'm  no  butter- 
in." 

"Your  language  is  difficult  to  under- 
stand," said  Lord  Ploversdale.  "Where 
is  Lord  Frederic  Westcote  ?" 

Mr.  Carteret  had  watched  the  field  ap- 
proaching as  fast  as  whip  and  spur  could 
drive  them,  and  in  the  first  flight  he 
noticed  Lord  Frederic  and  the  Major. 
For  this  reason  he  still  hesitated  about 
thrusting  himself  into  the  discussion.  It 
seemed  that  the  interference  of  a  third 
party  could  only  complicate  matters,  inas- 
much as  Lord  Frederic  would  so  soon  be 
upon  the  spot. 

Lord  Ploversdale  looked  across  the  field 
impatiently.  "I  Ve  no  doubt,  my  good 
fellow,  that  Lord  Frederic  Westcote 
brought  you  here  and  I  '11  see  him  about 
it,  but  kindly  take  these  fellows  home. 
They  '11  kill  all  my  hounds." 

"Now  you  're  beginning  to  talk  reason- 
able," said  Grady.  "I  '11  discuss  with 
you." 

The   words   were   hardly   out   of   his 


26  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

mouth  before  hounds  gave  tongue  riot- 
ously and  went  off.  The  fox  had  slipped 
out  of  the  other  end  of  the  drain  and  old 
Archer  had  found  the  line. 

As  if  shot  out  of  a  gun  the  three  In- 
dians dashed  at  the  stake-and-bound  fence 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  road,  joyously 
using  their  heavy  quirts  on  the  Major's 
thoroughbreds.  Skytail's  horse  being 
hurried  too  much,  blundered  his  take-off, 
hit  above  the  knees  and  rolled  over  on  the 
Chief  who  was  sitting  tight.  There  was 
a  stifled  grunt  and  then  the  Pawnee  word 
"Go-dam!" 

Hole-in-the-Ground  looked  back  and 
laughed  one  of  the  few  laughs  of  his  life. 
It  was  a  joke  which  he  could  understand. 
Then  he  used  the  quirt  again  to  make  the 
most  of  his  advantage. 

"That  one  is  finished,"  said  Lord  Plov- 
ersdale  gratefully.  But  as  the  words 
were  in  his  mouth,  Skytail  rose  with  his 
horse,  vaulted  up  and  was  away. 

The  M.  F.  H.  followed  over  the  fence 
shouting  at  Smith  to  whip  off  the  hounds. 
But  the  hounds  were  going  too  fast. 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       27 

They  had  got  a  view  of  the  fox  and  three 
whooping  horsemen  were  behind  them 
driving  them  on. 

The  first  flight  of  the  field  followed  the 
M.  F.  H.  out  of  the  road  and  so  did  Mr. 
Carteret,  and  presently  he  found  himself 
riding  between  Lord  Frederic  and  the 
Major.  They  were  both  a  bit  winded  and 
had  evidently  come  fast. 

"I  say,"  exclaimed  Lord  Frederic, 
"where  did  you  come  from  ?" 

"I  was  cured  by  the  Broncholine,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret,  "amazing  stuff!" 

"Is  your  horse  fresh?"  asked  Lord 
Frederic. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Carteret,  "I  hap- 
pened upon  them  at  the  road." 

"Then  go  after  that  man  Grady,"  said 
Lord  Frederic,  "and  implore  him  to  take 
those  beggars  home.  They  have  been 
riding  on  hounds  for  twenty  minutes." 

"Were  they  able,"  asked  Mr.  Carteret, 
"to  stay  with  their  horses  at  the  fences  ?" 

"Stay  with  their  horses!"  puffed  the 
Major. 

^'Go  on  like  a  good  chap,"  said  Lord 


28  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

Frederic,  "stop  that  fellow  or  I  shall  be 
expelled  from  the  hunt;  perhaps  put  in 
jail.  Was  Ploversdale  vexed?"  he  added. 

"I  should  judge  by  his  language,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret,  "that  he  was  vexed." 

"Hurry  on,"  said  Lord  Frederic. 
"Put  your  spurs  in." 

Mr.  Carteret  gave  his  horse  its  head 
and  he  shot  to  the  front,  but  Grady  was 
nearly  a  field  in  the  lead  and  it  promised 
to  be  a  long  chase  as  he  was  on  the 
Major's  black  thoroughbred.  The  cow- 
boy rode  along  with  a  loose  rein  and  an 
easy  balance  seat.  At  his  fences  he  swung 
his  hat  and  cheered.  He  seemed  to  be  en- 
joying himself  and  Mr.  Carteret  was  anx- 
ious lest  he  might  begin  to  shoot  for  pure 
delight.  Such  a  demonstration  would 
have  been  misconstrued.  Nearly  two 
hundred  yards  ahead  at  the  heels  of  the 
pack  galloped  the  Indians,  and  in  the  mid- 
dle distance  between  them  and  Grady  rode 
Lord  Ploversdale  and  Smith  vainly  trying 
to  overtake  the  hounds  and  whip  them  off. 
Behind  and  trailing  over  a  mile  or  more 
came  the  field  and  the  rest  of  the  hunt  ser- 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       29 

vants  in  little  groups,  all  awestruck  at 
what  had  happened.  It  was  unspeakable 
that  Lord  Ploversdale's  hounds  which  had 
been  hunted  by  his  father  and  his  grand- 
father should  be  so  scandalized. 

Mr.  Carteret  finally  got  within  a  length 
of  Grady  and  hailed  him. 

"Hello,  Carty,"  said  Grady,  "glad  to 
see  you.  I  thought  you  were  sick.  What 
can  I  do  ?  They  've  stampeded.  But  it 's 
a  great  ad.  for  the  show,  is  n't  it?  I  've 
got  four  reporters  in  a  hack  on  the  road." 

"Forget  about  the  show,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. "This  is  n't  any  laughing  matter. 
Ploversdale's  hounds  are  one  of  the 
smartest  packs  in  England.  You  don't 
understand." 

"It  will  make  all  the  better  story  in  the 
papers,"  said  Grady. 

"No,  it  won't,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
"They  won't  print  it.  It  's  like  a  blas- 
phemy upon  the  Church." 

"Whoop!"  yelled  Grady,  as  they  tore 
through  a  bullfinch. 

"Call  them  off,"  said  Mr.  Carteret, 
straightening  his  hat. 


30  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

"But  I  can't  catch  'em,"  said  Grady, 
and  that  was  the  truth. 

Lord  Ploversdale,  however,  had  been 
gaining  on  the  Indians,  and  by  the  way  in 
which  he  clubbed  his  heavy  crop,  loaded  at 
the  butt,  it  was  apparent  that  he  meant  to 
put  an  end  to  the  proceedings  if  he  could. 

Just  then  hounds  swept  over  the  crest 
of  a  green  hill  and  as  they  went  down  the 
other  side,  they  viewed  the  fox  in  the  field 
beyond.  He  was  in  distress,  and  it  looked 
as  if  the  pack  would  kill  in  the  open. 
They  were  running  wonderfully  together, 
the  traditional  blanket  would  have  cov- 
ered them,  and  in  the  natural  glow  of 
pride  which  came  over  the  M.  F.  H.,  he 
loosened  his  grip  upon  the  crop.  But  as 
the  hounds  viewed  the  fox  so  did  the 
three  sons  of  the  wilderness  who  were 
following  close  behind.  From  the  hill- 
top fifty  of  the  hardest  going  men  in. 
England  saw  Hole-in-the-Ground  flog- 
ging his  horse  with  the  heavy  quirt  which 
hung  from  his  wrist.  The  outraged 
British  hunter  shot  forward  scattering 
hounds  to  right  and  left,  flew  a  ditch  and 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       31 

hedge  and  was  close  on  the  fox  who  had 
stopped  to  make  a  last  stand.  Without 
drawing  rein,  the  astonished  onlookers 
saw  the  lean  Indian  suddenly  disappear 
under  the  neck  of  his  horse  and  almost 
instantly  swing  back  into  his  seat  waving 
a  brown  thing  above  his  head.  Hole-in- 
the-Ground  had  caught  the  fox! 

"Most  unprecedented!"  Mr.  Carteret 
heard  the  Major  exclaim.  He  pulled  up 
his  horse,  as  the  field  did  theirs,  and 
waited  apprehensively.  He  saw  Hole-in- 
the-Ground  circle  around,  jerk  the 
Major's  five  hundred  guinea  hunter  to  a 
standstill  close  to  Lord  Ploversdale  and 
address  him.  He  was  speaking  in  his 
own  language. 

As  the  Chief  went  on,  he  saw  Grady 
smile. 

"He  says,"  said  Grady  translating, 
"that  the  white  chief  can  eat  the  fox  if  he 
wants  him.  He  's  proud  himself  bein' 
packed  with  store  grub." 

The  English  onlookers  heard  and  be- 
held with  blank  faces.  It  was  beyond 
them. 


32  MR.  CARTERET  AND  HIS 

The  M.  F.  H.  bowed  stiffly  as  Hole-in- 
the-Ground's  offer  was  made  known  to 
him.  He  regarded  them  a  moment  in 
thought.  A  vague  light  was  breaking  in 
upon  him.  "Aw,  thank  you,"  he  said, 
"thanks  awfully.  Smith,  take  the  fox. 
Good  afternoon !" 

Then  he  wheeled  his  horse,  called  the 
hounds  in  with  his  horn  and  trotted  out 
to  the  road  that  led  to  the  kennels.  Lord 
Ploversdale,  though  he  had  never  been 
out  of  England,  was  cast  in  a  large  mold. 

The  three  Indians  sat  on  their  panting 
horses,  motionless,  stolidly  facing  the 
curious  gaze  of  the  crowd;  or  rather  they 
looked  through  the  crowd,  as  the  lion 
with  the  high  breeding  of  the  desert  looks 
through  and  beyond  the  faces  that  stare 
and  gape  before  the  bars  of  his  cage. 

"Most  amazing !  Most  amazing !"  mut- 
tered the  Major. 

"It  is,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "if  you  have 
never  been  away  from  this."  He  made  a 
sweeping  gesture  over  the  restricted  Eng- 
lish scenery,  pampered  and  brought  up  by 
hand. 


FELLOW  AMERICANS  ABROAD       33 

"Been  away  from  this?"  repeated  the 
Major.  "I  don't  understand." 

Mr.  Carteret  turned  to  him.  How 
could  he  explain  it? 

"With  us,"  he  began,  laying  an  em- 
phasis on  the  "us."  Then  he  stopped. 
"Look  into  their  eyes,"  he  said  hopelessly. 

The  Major  looked  at  him  blankly. 
How  could  he,  Major  Hammerslea  of 
"The  Blues,"  tell  what  those  inexplicable 
dark  eyes  saw  beyond  the  fenced  tillage ! 
What  did  he  know  of  the  brown,  bare, 
illimitable  range  under  the  noonday  sun, 
the  evening  light  on  far,  silent  mountains, 
the  starlit  desert ! 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET 
PROPOSED 


II 

HOW    MR.    CARTERET    PROPOSED 

"QARCLAY  slowly  guided  his  horse 
J3  through  the  mounted  throng  to  the 
spot  where  Mr.  Carteret  Carteret  was 
sitting  on  a  chestnut  thoroughbred  horse 
watching  hounds  as  they  came  straggling 
out  of  the  spinney.  They  had  drawn 
blank.  The  fox  was  not  at  home.  When 
Barclay  reached  his  friend  he  pulled  up 
casually  as  if  he  had  come  for  no  express 
purpose,  and  said  nothing.  After  a  few 
moments  he  began,  as  if  an  idea  had  just 
come  to  him : 

"It  has  occurred  to  me,  Carty,"  he  said, 
"that  if  we  brought  American  horses  to 
England,  we  could  make  a  lot  of  money." 

"That  idea  has  occurred  to  others,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Carteret,  without  turning  his 
head.  He  was  absorbed  in  the  enjoyable 
discovery  that  the  scene  before  him  was 

37 


38  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

like  a  hunting-print.  The  browns  of  the 
wood  and  bracken,  the  winter  green  of 
the  hill  pastures,  the  scarlet  coats,  the 
gray  sky  of  the  English  winter,  were  all 
happily  true  to  art.  "As  I  say,"  he  went 
on,  "the  idea  has  occurred  to  others,  but  I 
have  never  heard  that  any  one  made 
money." 

"That  is  because  they  have  n't  sent 
over  good  horses,"  said  Barclay.  "Sup- 
pose we  brought  over  only  such  thorough- 
bred horses  as  we  raise  on  the  Wyoming 
ranch." 

"I  don't  think  it  would  make  any  dif- 
ference," said  Mr.  Carteret.  "There  is  a 
prejudice  against  American  horses." 

"Exactly,"  said  Barclay;  "and  the  way 
to  meet  it  would  be  to  have  them  ridden 
and  handled  by  a  well-known  English- 
man. In  fact,  I  have  the  man  in  mind." 

"Who?" 

"Young  Granvil,"  was  the  answer. 

Why  Barclay  should  be  interested  in 
making  money  out  of  a  horse  business  or 
in  any  other  way  had  perplexed  Mr.  Car- 
teret, for  it  was  not  according  to  his  habits 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  39 

of  mind.  Now  it  became  clear  to  him, 
and  he  suppressed  a  cynical  smile.  "I 
don't  suppose  Lady  Withers  has  dis- 
cussed this  matter  with  you,"  he  ob- 
served. 

"In  a  general  way,  yes,"  replied  Bar- 
clay ;  "but  it  was  my  suggestion." 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

Barclay  paused  awkwardly  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  he  said:  "Why  should  n't  I 
talk  it  over  with  Lady  Withers  ?  She  is  a 
very  intelligent  woman,  and  a  good  judge 
of  a  horse." 

"An  excellent  judge  of  almost  every- 
thing," said  his  friend,  "and  especially 
of  young  men.  My  son,"  he  continued 
(Barclay  was  five  years  his  junior),  "it 
is  commendable  of  Lady  Withers  to  pro- 
vide for  the  Hon.  Cecil  James  Montague 
Granvil.  He  is  her  nephew  and  flat 
broke,  and  he  needs  people  to  look  after 
him  because  he  is  almost  less  than  half- 
witted. But  that  is  no  reason  why  you 
should  be  the  person  to  look  after  him.'* 

"You  are  unjust  to  Cecil,"  said  Bar- 
clay, "and  most  unkind  in  your  insinua- 


40  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

tions  as  to  Lady  Withers.  This  was  my 
own  idea  entirely,  and  I  think  it  would 
be  profitable  for  both  of  us.  You  know 
you  are  always  complaining  because  I 
don't  take  more  interest  in  the  ranches." 

"If  I  have  been  unkind  to  Lady  With- 
ers," said  Mr.  Carteret,  "I  am  going  to 
be  much  more  so." 

Barclay  looked  challengingly.  "What 
do  you  mean  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Lady  Withers,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "is 
a  widow,  aged  forty- four, — you  can  verify 
that  in  Burke, — a  man-eater  by  tempera- 
ment and  habit.  You  are  twelve  years 
younger  than  she,  with  a  great  deal  more 
money  than  is  good  for  you.  Whether 
she  intends  to  marry  you  I  don't  pretend 
to  know,  but  it  is  not  unlikely.  At  any 
rate,  you  are  unquestionably  on  the  list  as 
a  source  of  income  and  supply." 

Somewhat  to  Mr.  Carteret's  surprise, 
Barclay  listened  calmly. 

"Do  you  really  think  Lady  Withers 
considers  me  eligible?"  he  asked. 

"She  does,  if  she  has  any  true  concep- 
tion of  your  securities." 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  41 

Barclay  smiled  a  pleased  smile.  "I 
shall  not  stop  to  discuss  Lady  Withers's 
age,"  he  said.  "Have  you  any  objections 
to  her  aside  from  that?" 

Mr.  Carteret  looked  at  him  with  out- 
ward calm,  but  inwardly  he  was  rilled 
with  horror.  "Are  you  engaged  to  her  ?" 
he  asked. 

"I  am  not,"  said  Barclay. 

"Then  I  shall  tell  you,"  he  went  on, 
"that  I  have  objections.  Their  nature  I 
have  no  time  to  disclose  at  present  further 
than  to  say  that  any  woman  who  puts  a 
nice  girl  like  her  niece  upon  the  horse  she 
is  riding  to-day  is  a  bad  lot." 

Barclay's  expression  changed.  "What 
is  the  matter  with  the  horse?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"I  'm  not  sure  that  I  know  all  that  is 
the  matter  with  him,"  said  Carty,  "but  I 
would  n't  ride  him  over  a  fence  for  the 
Bank  of  England." 

"Do  you  know  that,  or  are  you  just 
talking?"  said  Barclay. 

"I  ought  to  know,"  said  the  other.  "I 
owned  him.  After  what  he  did  to  me,  I 


42  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

ought  to  have  shot  him.  We  'd  better  jog 
along,"  he  added,  "or  we  shall  get  pock- 
eted and  never  get  through  the  gate." 

The  huntsman  had  called  his  hounds 
and  was  carrying  them  to  the  next  cover, 
and  Mr.  Carteret  set  his  horse  to  a  trot 
and  struggled  for  a  place  in  the  vast  scar- 
let-coated throng  that  surged  toward  the 
gate  leading  out  of  the  meadow.  At  the 
same  time  Barclay  disappeared. 

"I  hope  he  tells  Lady  Withers  about 
the  horse,"  said  Mr.  Carteret  to  himself. 
"If  she  does  n't  keep  her  hands  off  him,  I 
shall  tell  her  several  things  myself." 

Just  at  that  moment  the  eddying  cur- 
rents of  the  human  maelstrom  brought 
him  alongside  a  slender  little  figure  in  a 
weather-beaten  habit  and  a  bowler  hat 
jammed  down  to  her  ears  over  a  mass  of 
golden  hair.  Although  the  knot  of  hair 
was  twisted  cruelly  tight,  and  although 
the  hat  did  its  best  to  cover  it,  even  a 
man's  eye  could  see  that  it  was  profuse 
and  wonderful.  It  was  unnecessary  for 
him  to  look  at  the  horse.  He  knew  that 
he  was  beside  Lady  Mary  Granvil,  Lady 


The  vast  scarlet-coated  throng  that  surged  toward  the  gate 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  45 

Withers's  niece.  "Good  afternoon,"  he 
said  and  she  turned  toward  him.  It  was 
a  sad  rather  than  a  pretty  face,  but  one's 
attention  never  rested  long  upon  it,  for  a 
pair  of  gray  eyes  shone  from  under  the 
brows,  and  after  the  first  glance  one 
looked  at  the  eyes. 

"Good  afternoon,"  he  said  again.  The 
eyes  rather  disconcerted  him.  "Do  you 
happen  to  know  anything  about  that  horse 
you  're  riding?" 

"It  's  one  that  my  aunt  bought  quite 
recently,"  said  the  girl.  "She  and  Cecil 
wished  me  to  try  it." 

"I  hope  you  won't  think  me  rude,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret,  "but  I  once  owned  him,  and 
I  think  you  '11  find  this  horse  of  mine  a 
much  pleasanter  beast  to  ride.  I  '11  have 
the  saddles  changed." 

Lady  Mary  looked  at  him,  and  a  light 
flashed  in  her  gray  eyes.  "You  are  very 
good,"  she  said,  "but  this  is  my  aunt's 
horse,  and  my  brother  told  me  to  ride  it." 
She  forged  ahead,  and  disappeared  in  the 
currents  of  the  crowd. 

"I  did  that  very  badly,"  Mr.  Carteret 


46  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

said  to  himself,  and  fell  into  the  line  and 
waited  for  his  turn  at  the  gate. 

He  and  Barclay,  Lady  Withers,  and 
many  other  people  were  stopping  the 
week-end  at  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith's,  who  had 
Chilliecote  Abbey,  and  when  he  got  home 
that  afternoon  he  went  at  once  to  the 
great  library,  where  the  ceremony  of  tea 
was  celebrated.  The  daylight  was  fad- 
ing from  the  mullioned  windows  as  it  had 
faded  on  winter  afternoons  for  three  hun- 
dred years.  Candles  burned  on  the  va- 
cant card-tables,  while  the  occupants  of 
the  room  gathered  in  the  glow  of  the 
great  Elizabethan  fireplace  and  conversed 
and  ate.  As  he  approached  the  circle, 
Lady  Withers  put  down  her  tea  cup. 

"Did  you  have  another  run  after  we 
pulled  out?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carteret;  "rather  a 
good  one." 

Suddenly  her  eyes  began  to  beam. 
There  was  a  display  of  red  lips  and  white 
teeth,  and  a  sort  of  general  facial  radia- 
tion. It  was  an  effort  usually  fatal  to 
guardsmen,  but  it  affected  Mr.  Carteret 
like  the  turning  on  of  an  electric  heater, 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  47 

and  he  backed  away  as  if  he  felt  the 
room  were  warm  enough.  "I  am  so 
glad,"  she  said. 

"Tell  me,"  she  went  on  in  her  soft, 
delightfully  modulated  voice,  "are  n't 
you  interested  with  Mr.  Barclay  in  some 
farms?" 

"We  own  two  ranches  together,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret. 

"Yes,  that  was  it,"  said  Lady  Withers ; 
"and  you  raise  horses  on  them  ?" 

Mr.  Carteret  apprehended  what  was 
coming.  "Yes;  ranch  horses,"  he  said 
dryly. 

"And  such  good  ones,  as  Mr.  Barclay 
was  telling  me,"  said  Lady  Withers.  "He 
made  me  quite  enthusiastic  with  his  ac- 
count of  it  all,  and  he  is  so  anxious  to 
have  dear  Cecil  manage  them  in  Eng- 
land ;  but  before  Cecil  decides  one  way  or 
the  other  I  want  your  advice." 

Mr.  Carteret  looked  at  her  and  stroked 
his  mustache.  His  opportunity  to  save 
Barclay  had  come.  "My  advice  would  be 
worth  very  little,"  he  said;  "but  I  can 
give  you  all  the  facts,  and  of  course  Bar- 
clay— well,  he  can't." 


48  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

A  shade  of  apprehension  crossed  Lady 
Withers's  face.  "And  why  not?"  she  de- 
manded. 

"I  should  rather  not  go  into  that,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret.  "Of  course  the  great  objec- 
tion to  the  scheme  is  that  it  would  be  un- 
profitable for  Mr.  Granvil,  because  no 
one  would  buy  our  horses." 

"But  would  n't  they,"  said  Lady  With- 
ers, "if  they  were  good  ones?" 

"Major  Hammerslea  can  answer  that 
question  better  than  I,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. He  looked  toward  that  great  man 
and  smiled.  The  Major  was  the  author 
of  "Schooling  and  Riding  British  Hunt- 
ers," and  Mr.  Carteret  knew  his  views. 

"No  one,"  said  the  Major,  impres- 
sively, "would  buy  an  American  horse  if 
he  desired  to  make  or  possess  a  really 
good  hunter." 

"But  why  advertise  that  they  were 
American?"  observed  Lady  Withers, 
blandly. 

"How  could  you  hide  it?"  said  the 
Major. 

"Exactly,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  49 

"Furthermore,"  observed  the  Major, 
his  interest  in  the  controversy  growing, 
"the  output  of  a  single  breeding  institu- 
tion would  scarcely  make  it  worth  Cecil's 
while  to  manage  an  agency  for  their  dis- 
tribution." 

"I  think  you  don't  understand,"  said 
Lady  Withers,  "that  Mr.  Carteret  has  a 
large  place." 

"My  friend  the  Duke  of  Westchester," 
began  the  Major,  "has  in  his  breeding 
farm  eight  thousand  acres — " 

"But  I  've  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Carteret's 
is  very  nearly  as  large,"  interrupted  Lady 
Withers. 

"I  don't  think  size  has  anything  to  do 
with  it,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  uneasily. 
"The  fact  is,  we  don't  raise  the  kind  of 
horse  that  English  dealers  would  buy." 

"I  think  size  has  much  to  do  with  it," 
replied  the  Major. 

"I  wish,"  said  Lady  Withers,  "that 
you  would  tell  Major  Hammerslea  ex- 
actly how  large  your  farms  are." 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret, uneasily. 


50  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

"But,  about  how  large?"  insisted  Lady- 
Withers. 

"There  is  something  over  a  million 
acres  in  the  Texas  piece,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret,  with  some  embarrassment,  "and 
something  under  six  hundred  thousand  in 
Wyoming." 

Lady  Withers  and  the  Major  both 
looked  at  him  with  eyes  of  amazement. 
But  Lady  Withers's  amazement  was  ad- 
miring. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  she,  calmly.  The 
Major  in  silence  walked  over  to  the 
table  and  took  a  cigar.  "Looking  at  it 
from  all  points  of  view,"  she  continued, 
"it  would  be  just  the  thing  for  Cecil.  He 
is  intelligent  with  regard  to  horses." 

"But  I  don't  wish  to  go  to  Texas," 
said  the  Hon.  Cecil,  who  had  joined  the 
group.  "They  say  the  shootin'  's  most 
moderate." 

"It  is  n't  necessary  yet  for  you  to  go  to 
Texas,"  said  Lady  Withers,  coldly.  "Mr. 
Carteret  and  I  are  arranging  to  employ 
your  talents  in  England." 

"Of  course    another   objection,"    said 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  51 

Mr.  Carteret,  "is  that  Granvil  is  too  good 
a  man  to  waste  on  such  an  occupation. 
The  horse  business  is  very  confining.  It 's 
an  awful  bore  to  be  tied  down." 

"You  are  absolutely  right  about  that," 
said  the  Hon.  Cecil,  with  a  burst  of  frank- 
ness. "You  don't  know  what  a  relief  it 
is  to  be  out  of  the  Guards.  Awfully  con- 
fining life,  the  Guards." 

"I  think,"  said  Lady  Withers,  appar- 
ently oblivious  to  the  views  of  her  nephew, 
"that  Mr.  Barclay  takes  rather  the  more 
businesslike  view  of  these  matters.  It  is 
he,  I  fancy,  who  looks  after  the  affairs  of 
your  estates;  and  I  should  judge,"  she 
continued,  "that,  after  all,  his  advice  to 
a  young  man  like  Cecil  with  a  very  mod- 
erate income  would  be  wiser.  I  believe 
very  much  in  an  occupation  for  young 
men." 

Mr.  Carteret  saw  that  his  time  had 
come.  He  looked  at  Lady  Withers  and 
smiled  sadly.  "Of  course  I  'm  very  fond 
of  Barclay,"  he  said  in  a  lower  tone,  "and 
of  course  he  is  an  awfully  charming,  plau- 
sible boy — "  Then  he  stopped,  apparently 


52  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

because  Major  Hammerslea  was  return- 
ing with  his  cigar. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Lady 
Withers. 

Mr.  Carteret  made  no  direct  reply,  but 
moved  toward  the  piano,  and  Lady  With- 
ers followed.  "It  is  best  to  speak 
plainly,"  he  said,  "because,  after  all,  busi- 
ness is  business,  as  we  say." 

"Exactly,"  said  Lady  Withers.  Her 
teeth  had  ceased  to  gleam.  The  radiance 
had  left  her  face,  though  not  the  bloom 
upon  it.  Her  large,  beaming  eyes  had 
contracted.  She  looked  twenty  years 
older. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  stead- 
ily, "that  Barclay  is  not  the  business 
manager  of  our  ranches.  He  is  not  a 
business  man  at  all.  It  is  true  that  he  still 
retains  a  certain  interest  in  the  ranch 
properties  but  he  has  been  so  unbusiness- 
like that  everything  he  's  got  is  in  the 
hands  of  a  trustee.  He  gets  his  income 
monthly,  like  a  remittance-man.  He  is 
not  in  actual  want ;  but — ' 

"I  see,"  said  Lady  Withers,  coldly.    "I 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  53 

had  misunderstood  the  situation."  She 
turned  and  crossed  to  one  of  the  card- 
tables  and  sat  down. 

After  she  had  gone,  Mr.  Carteret 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  went  out.  It  was  his 
intention  to  go  to  his  room,  have  his  tub, 
and  change.  His  mind  was  relieved.  He 
had  no  fear  that  Lady  Withers  would 
either  beam  or  radiate  for  a  young  man 
whose  fortune  was  in  captivity  to  a  trustee. 
He  had  saved  Barclay,  and  he  was  pleased 
with  himself.  As  he  passed  through  the 
twilight  of  the  main  hallway,  the  front 
door  opened,  and  Lady  Mary  Granvil  and 
Barclay  entered  side  by  side.  It  was  the 
girl's  voice  that  he  heard  first. 

"Please  have  it  dressed  at  once,"  she 
was  saying. 

"But  there  's  no  hurry,"  said  Barclay. 

"Please,  at  once,"  said  the  girl.  There 
was  something  in  her  tone  that  made  Mr. 
Carteret  turn  from  the  stairs  and  go  for- 
ward to  meet  them. 

"I  've  snapped  my  collar-bone,"  said 
Barclay.  "It 's  nothing." 

The  girl  "drew  back  a  step  into  the 


54  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

heavy  shadow  of  the  corner,  but  Mr.  Car- 
teret  did  not  notice  it.  "So  old  True 
Blue  has  put  you  down  at  last,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Barclay  evasively;  "that 
is-" 

"He  was  not  riding  True  Blue,"  said 
Lady  Mary  resolutely.  "He  was  riding 
my  horse.  Mr.  Barclay  changed  with 
me." 

"The  horse  was  all  right,"  said  Bar- 
clay, hurriedly.  "It  was  my  own  fault. 
I  bothered  him  at  a  piece  of  timber. 
It  was  n't  the  horse  you  thought  it  was," 
he  added  rather  anxiously.  "It  was  one 
they  got  from  Oakly,  the  dealer." 

Now,  Mr.  Carteret  had  sold  the  horse 
in  question  to  Oakly,  yet  he  said  noth- 
ing, but  stood  and  looked  from  one  to 
the  other.  Disturbing  suspicions  were 
springing  up  in  the  depths  of  his  mind. 

The  girl  broke  the  silence.  "You  ought 
to  get  it  set  without  any  more  delay,"  she 
said ;  "you  really  ought.  It  will  begin  to 
swell.  Go  up,  and  I  shall  have  them  tele- 
phone for  the  doctor." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret ;  "but  I  '11  see  about  the  doctor." 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  55 

He  turned  and  started  toward  the  end 
of  the  long  hall,  searching  for  a  bell  that 
he  might  summon  a  servant.  Presently 
it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  no  idea  of 
the  doctor's  name,  and  that  there  might 
be  several  doctors.  He  stopped,  turned, 
and  came  back  noiselessly  upon  the  heavy 
rug  and  all  but  invisible  in  the  dusk  of 
the  unlighted  hallway.  Suddenly  he 
stopped.  The  girl  had  been  watching 
Barclay  as  he  went  up  the  stairs.  As  he 
passed  out  of  sight,  she  turned  and 
dropped  into  a  chair  with  a  little  sigh, 
like  one  who  has  been  under  a  strain.  On 
the  table  beside  her  lay  the  silk  muffler  in 
which  his  arm  had  been  tied.  She  took  it 
up  and  began  folding  it.  Then  she 
smoothed  it  with  curious  little  strokings 
and  touches,  and  then  suddenly  pressing 
it  to  her  cheek,  put  it  down  and  disap- 
peared through  the  morning-room  door- 
way in  a  confusion  in  which  she  had 
surprised  herself.  Mr.  Carteret  stepped 
back  behind  a  curtain,  and  when  he  was 
sure  that  Lady  Mary  was  not  coming 
back,  instead  of  ordering  the  doctor,  he 
went  to  Barclay's  room. 


56  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

"I  should  like  to  know,"  he  began, 
"how  it  was  that  you  were  riding  Mary 
Granvil's  horse  ?" 

Barclay  met  his  look  steadily.  "I 
wanted  to  try  it  with  a  view  to  purchase," 
he  answered.  "You  know  Lady  Withers 
had  said  she  wished  to  sell  it." 

"Excuse  me  for  being  plain,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret,  "but  my  opinion  is  that  no  man 
would  have  ridden  that  horse  when 
hounds  were  running  unless  he  wanted  to 
marry  either  the  woman  who  owned  it  or 
the  woman  who  was  riding  it." 

"Well?"  said  Barclay. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "is  it  Lady 
Withers?" 

"No,"  said  Barclay  decisively ;  "it  is  n't 
Lady  Withers." 

Mr.  Carteret  looked  at  his  young 
friend  with  outward  indifference.  In- 
wardly he  was  experiencing  much  relief. 
"When  are  you  going  to  announce  your 
engagement?"  he  asked. 

Barclay  shook  his  head  grimly.  "I 
wish  I  knew,"  he  said.  "I  'm  up  against 
it,  I  fa'ncy." 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  57 

"It  's  not  my  business,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret,  "but  I  should  like  to  know  what 
you  mean." 

"Why,  in  a  word,  Carty,"  said  Barclay, 
"I  'm  not  it,  that  's  all,  and  the  situation 
is  such  that  I  don't  see  what  I  can  do  to 
make  her  change  her  mind." 

Mr.  Carteret  looked  perplexed.  What 
he  had  seen  in  the  hall  gave  him  a  feeling 
of  guilt.  "When  did  she  refuse  you?" 
he  asked  at  last. 

"She  has  n't  refused  me,"  answered 
Barclay.  "You  don't  ask  a  woman  to 
marry  you  when  you  know  that  she  cares 
for  some  one  else." 

"So  she  cares  for  some  one  else?"  ob- 
served Mr.  Carteret. 

"You  could  guess  whom,"  said  Barclay. 

"Supposing  she  does  like  Brinton  a 
bit,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "what  's  to  pre- 
vent you  from  getting  into  the  race  ?" 

"Can't  you  see!"  exclaimed  Barclay. 
"If  Lady  Withers  thought  I  wanted  to 
marry  her, — you  know  what  she  'd  do." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "if  she  is  n't 
forced  to  marry  your  money,  she  '11  have 


58  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

to  marry  Tappingwell-Sikes's,  and,  on 
the  whole,  I  think  she  'd  prefer  your  rail- 
roads to  his  beer." 

"What  Sikes  may  do,"  said  Barclay, 
"is  not  my  business;  but  I  want  no 
woman  to  marry  me  if  she  does  n't  want 
to." 

"Your  sentiments  are  not  discredit- 
able," observed  his  friend;  "but,  after 
all,  she  may  want  to.  You  can't  be  sure 
until  you  ask  her." 

"Yes,  I  can,"  said  Barclay.  "Besides," 
he  went  on,  "am  I  anything  wonderful 
that  she  should  jump  at  me?" 

"That  is  not  an  original  suggestion," 
said  Mr.  Carteret,  thoughtfully,  "yet  it 
may  be  in  point.  However,  it  is  a  great 
mistake  to  act  upon  it  when  you  are  mak- 
ing love." 

"In  the  second  place,"  Barclay  con- 
tinued, "Captain  Brinton  has  the  inside 
track." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Carteret, 
decisively;  "they  're  too  much  together 
in  public." 

Barclay    shook    his    head    dismally. 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  59 

"Over  here  it  means  they  're  engaged," 
he  said. 

"Well,  what  do  you  mean  to  do  about 
it?"  asked  Mr.  Carteret  after  a  pause. 

"What  is  there  to  do?"  answered  Bar- 
clay. "Nothing  but  wait." 

"My  boy,"  said  the  older  man,  "I  'm 
not  surprised  that  you  're  in  love  with 
Mary  Granvil ;  I  am  myself,  and,  what  's 
more,  I  'm  not  going  to  have  her  thrown 
away  on  a  bounder  like  Tappingwell- 
Sikes.  If  you  don't  propose  to  her,  I 
shall.  I  '11  keep  my  hands  off  for  three 
weeks,  and  then  look  out." 

Barclay  smiled.  "You  don't  frighten 
me  very  much,"  he  said. 

"But  I  'm  in  earnest,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. "It  's  time  for  me  to  get  married. 
I  'm  not  the  kind  for  a  grand  passion, 
and  that 's  all  in  my  favor  when  it  comes 
to  making  love.  In  fact,  my  indifference 
to  women  is  what  makes  me  so  attrac- 
tive." 

"Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Barclay.  "Gener- 
ally speaking,  I  'm  indifferent  to  women 
myself.  But—" 


60  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

"I  'm  not  going  to  discuss  it  with  you," 
said  Mr.  Carteret  interrupting.  "I  'm 
going  to  propose  to  Mary  Granvil." 

He  examined  the  broken  collar-bone, 
sent  a  servant  to  telephone  for  the  doctor, 
and  left  the  room.  "Now,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I  Ve  got  to  go  to  Lady  Withers 
and  wwsave  Barclay."  And  he  went  back 
to  the  library  where  they  were  still  hav- 
ing tea. 

It  was  Lady  Withers's  dummy,  and  the 
cards  being  excessively  bad,  she  had  risen 
and  was  walking  about.  As  Mr.  Carteret 
entered,  she  glanced  at  him  coldly ;  but  as 
he  continued  to  approach,  she  held  her 
ground. 

"I  have  just  had  an  idea,"  he  began 
with  an  air  of  mystery. 

"How  very  interesting !"  observed  Lady 
Withers.  She  neither  beamed  nor  gleamed 
nor  radiated. 

"Yes,"  he  went  on,  "it  suddenly 
dawned  upon  me  that  what  you  really 
wanted  was  that  Cecil  should  have  some- 
thing to  do." 

"Really?"  said  Lady  Withers. 

"Exactly,"    said    Carteret.     He    was 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  61 

making  heavy  weather,  but  he  kept  on. 
"You  see,  my  first  idea  was  that  you  were 
merely  interested  in  bringing  American 
horses  to  England,  as  it  were,  don't  you 
see,  for  the  humor  of  the  thing — Haw! 
haw!" — he  laughed  painfully, — "and  so, 
you  see,  I  took  Cecil's  very  natural  view 
of  the  matter,  that  it  would  be  a  great 
bore,  don't  you  see,  not  realizing  in  the 
least  that  you  wished  it  for  his  own  good. 
Now  I  think,  if  you  are  serious  about  it, 
which  of  course  I  never  fancied,  that 
Cecil  would  be  just  the  man  td  manage 
an  agency  and  see  that  the  horses  were 
broken  and  schooled  and  got  ready  for 
the  dealers  to  buy;  and  more  than  that,  I 
think  he  ought  to  have  a  large  share  of 
the  profits,  don't  you?" 

As  Mr.  Carteret  talked  on  Lady  With- 
ers had  obviously  melted,  though  she  had 
not  yet  begun  to  beam.  "I  must  say," 
she  said  frankly,  "that  I  do  think  he 
ought  to  have  a  large  share  of  the 
profits." 

"And  I  think,"  he  continued,  "that  he 
ought  to  have  a  salary  besides." 

"It   seems   only   reasonable,"    she    re- 


62  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

plied,  "when  you  think  of  Cecil's  influ- 
ence and  that  sort  of  thing,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  experience  with  horses.  I  happen 
to  know  that  Lord  Glen  Rossmuir  got  five 
thousand  pounds  merely  for  going  upon 
the  board  of  the  United  Marmalade  and 
Jam  Company,  and  he  gets  a  salary  be- 
sides." 

"And  Cecil  is  far  abler  than  Glen 
Rossmuir,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Far,"  said  Lady  Withers. 

"And  one  more  thing,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret; "what  I  said  about  Barclay's  trus- 
tee was  somewhat  misleading,  because, 
don't  you  see,  the  trust  comes  to  an  end 
in  six  weeks." 

"And  then,"  said  Lady  Withers,  "do  I 
understand  that  he  will  have  control  of 
his  own  fortune  ?" 

"Unconditionally,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
"And  I  may  say  that  he  is  so  awfully  rich 
that  to  avoid  beggars  and  anarchists  he 
keeps  his  name  out  of  the  telephone- 
book,  which  in  New  York  is  something 
like  the  equivalent  of  being  a  duke  in- 
England." 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  63 

"When  will  the  first  ship-load  of  the 
horses  arrive  ?"  asked  Lady  Withers. 

Mr.  Carteret  was  taken  aback,  but  an 
idea  came  to  him.  "It  has  just  occurred 
to  me,"  he  said,  "that  a  neighbor  of  ours 
in  Wyoming  is  sending  over  some  horses 
in  the  course  of  the  next  few  days.  I 
could  wire  him  and  have  him  bring  over 
two  or  three  for  samples — patterns,  you 
call  them ;  and  then,  if  they  are  what  you 
approve  of,  we  shall  have  a  ship-load 
come  over." 

"Excellent!"  said  Lady  Withers. 
"Wire  him  at  once,  and  you  also  had  bet- 
ter wire  your  manager,  so  that  there  may 
be  no  delay."  . 

"I  will,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "And,  by 
the  way,"  he  added,  "if  Cecil  should  need 
an  assistant,  do  you  think  Captain  Brin- 
ton  would  do?" 

Lady  Withers  thought  a  moment,  and 
looked  doubtful.  "He  's  a  nice  boy,"  she 
said,  "and  without  a  penny;  but  he  's  so 
mad  about  Christina  Dalrymple  that  he 
•would  be  good  for  nothing  in  the  way  of 
an  assistant  to  lighten  Cecil's  duties.  He 


64  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

bores  poor  dear  Mary  nearly  to  death 
confiding  his  love-affairs  to  her." 

"Then  we  can  leave  the  position  of 
assistant  manager  open,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. 

"It  would  be  better,"  said  Lady  With- 
ers. She  began  to  beam  again.  "In  fact, 
I  have  another  nephew ;  but  I  must  play," 
she  added,  and  went  back  to  the  card- 
table.  "Cecil,"  she  observed,  before  the 
hand  began,  "there  will  be  some  of  Mr. 
Barclay's  horses  delivered  at  the  Hall  in 
a  fortnight  from  now.  Will  you  make 
your  plans  to  be  there  for  a  few  days  ?" 

The  Hon.  Cecil  was  dealing,  but  he 
stopped.  "I  tell  you  it  's  all  rubbish, 
these  American  horses,"  he  said  petu- 
lantly. "And  besides,  they  buck  like 
devils.  It  's  an  awful  bore." 

"Not  any  more  than  any  young  thor- 
oughbred horses  might  buck,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret.  "They  may  kick  and  play,  but 
it  's  nothing." 

"Cecil  is  only  joking  about  the  buck- 
ing," said  a  soft  voice  from  the  chimney- 
corner.  It  was  Lady  Mary.  "Cecil  can 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  65 

ride  anything  that  was  ever  saddled,"  she 
added. 

"Still,  it  is  a  bore,"  said  the  Hon. 
Cecil,  only  partly  mollified  by  the  sisterly 
compliment. 

"One  word,"  said  Mr.  Carteret  in  an 
undertone  to  Cecil.  "Please  tell  Lady 
Withers  that  I  'm  going  to  buy  that  horse 
your  sister  was  riding." 

"Good  horse,"  said  the  Hon.  Cecil,  and 
he  went  on  with  his  dealing. 

Mr.  Carteret  did  not  add  that  he  was 
going  to  have  him  shot  and  fed  to  the 
hounds.  Instead,  he  went  back  to  the 
fireplace,  where  the  gray  eyes  were  gleam- 
ing in  the  firelight. 

"You  must  n't  keep  Mr.  Carteret  from 
cabling,"  Lady  Withers  called  from  the 
bridge-table;  "and  while  I  think  of  it," 
she  added,  "won't  you  and  Mr.  Barclay 
come  to  Crumpeton  for  a  week  as  soon  as 
the  horses  arrive  ?  I  shall  write  you.  Do 
you  think  that  Mr.  Barclay  will  be  able 
to  come  ?" 

"I  think  it  probable,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. 


66  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

The  firelight  suddenly  ceased  to  gleam 
upon  the  gray  eyes.  They  were  turned 
toward  the  floor. 

"That  is  very  nice,"  said  Lady  Withers, 
arranging  her  cards;  "but  you  must  n't 
let  me  detain  you.  You  know  they  might 
just  miss  a  steamer." 

"I  'm  off,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  and  he 
left  the  room. 

The  party  at  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith's  dis- 
persed next  day.  Mr.  Carteret  went 
back  to  his  own  house,  which  he  had  done 
over  in  the  American  manner,  to  get 
warm,  and  to  have  a  bath  in  a  porcelain 
tub.  Barclay  returned  with  him  to  nurse 
his  collar-bone.  As  he  was  unable  to  hunt, 
he  went  to  the  meets  in  a  motor,  and 
watched  for  the  slim  little  figure  in  the 
weather-beaten  habit.  What  he  saw 
neither  cheered  nor  reassured  him. 

"It  is  very  natural,"  he  said  gloomily 
to  Mr.  Carteret,  "but  there  are  at  least  a 
dozen  men  after  her.  Besides  Sikes, 
there  were  four  guardsmen  who  rode  to 
cover  with  her,  and  then  old  Lord  Water- 
mere  butted  in.  He  's  looking  for  a  third 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  67 

wife.  You  know  yourself  that  when  a 
man  pays  any  attention  to  a  woman  out 
hunting  it  's  because  he  likes  her." 

"I  don't  know  what  their  intentions 
are,"  said  Mr.  Carteret;  "but  as  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  you  have  three  weeks  less 
one  day  in  which  to  propose  to  her.  I 
want  to  do  the  fair  thing,"  he  continued, 
"and  I  advise  you  that  the  psychological 
moment  would  be  while  the  collar-bone  is 
a  novelty.  There  is  an  American  buggy  in 
the  stable,  and  an  American  trotting 
horse  that  drives  with  one  hand.  Verb 
sap." 

"But  it  is  n't  done  in  England,"  said 
Barclay. 

"Buggy-riding,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "or 
its  equivalent,  is  done  wherever  there  is  a 
man  of  spirit  and  a  young  lady  with  in- 
tuitions. The  trouble  with  you,"  he  went 
on,  "is  that  you  are  too  modest  on  the 
one  hand  and  too  self-important  on  the 
other.  If  you  are  not  good  enough  for 
the  girl,  you  need  n't  fear  that  Lady 
Withers  will  give  you  the  preference  over 
Sikes.  This  is  the  last  advice  I  'm  going 


68  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

to  give.  Henceforth  I  act  on  my  own 
account." 

Barclay  smiled  doubtfully,  but  said 
nothing. 

"I  mean  it,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

That  afternoon  at  tea  a  telegram  ar- 
rived from  which  Barclay  gathered  that 
his  mother  was  in  Paris,  afflicted  with  a 
maid  with  chicken-pox,  and  that  she  was 
frantic  with  the  sanitary  regulations  of 
the  French  government. 

"Could  n't  I  go?"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"No,"  said  Barclay,  "there  are  twenty- 
eight  words  in  this  dispatch.  It  is  a 
hurry-call  for  me."  He  took  the  night 
train. 

Three  weeks  later  he  came  back.  He 
arrived  late  in  the  afternoon  and  found 
his  host  before  the  fire  looking  thought- 
fully at  a  note  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 
"I  'm  glad  to  see  you  back,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret.  "Have  you  proposed  to  Mary 
Granvil?" 

"I?"  said  Barclay.  "No.  How  could 
I  in  Paris?  Why?"  There  was  an  anxi- 
ety in  his  manner  which  suggested  that  he 
was  not  as  resigned  as  he  said  he  was. 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  69 

"If  you  have  n't  been  bungling,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret,  "blessed  if  I  know  what  has 
happened." 

"Is  it  announced?"  asked  Barclay.  "Is 
itSikes?" 

"Read  Lady  Withers's  note,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret. 

Barclay  took  the  note  and  read : 

DEAR  MR.  CARTERET: 

You  will  doubtless  not  be  surprised  at  my 
request  that  you  remove  your  horses  at 
once  from  my  stables.  It  is  a  disappoint- 
ment to  me  that  an  unforeseen  change  in  my 
plans  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  have 
you  and  Mr.  Barclay  at  Crumpeton  this 
week. 

Sincerely  yours, 

CONSTANTIA  GRANVIL  WITHERS. 

"It 's  Sikes,"  said  Barclay. 

"It  may  be,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "I 
ought  to  have  taken  the  matter  into  my 
own  hands  a  week  ago." 

"You  don't  mean  you  are  in  earnest?" 
said  Barclay. 

"You  will  very  soon  find  out,"  said  Mr. 


70  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

Carteret.  "I  have  no  false  delicacy  about 
proposing  to  a  lady  merely  because  I  'm 
not  sure  she  's  in  love  with  me." 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  he  and 
Barclay  were  sitting  in  the  motor  in  front 
of  Crumpeton,  while  a  footman  explained 
that  the  ladies  were  at  the  stables  and 
Major  Hammerslea  was  with  them.  Mr. 
Carteret  told  the  chauffeur  to  go  to  the 
stables,  and  there  they  got  out.  Standing 
saddled  on  the  floor  of  an  open  box-stall 
was  a  showy-looking  chestnut  thorough- 
bred horse.  As  was  only  natural,  the  oc- 
cupants of  the  motor  stopped  to  examine 
him,  and  Mr.  Carteret  gave  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise.  "If  I  am  not  mistaken," 
he  said,  "that  is  one  of  our  Prince  Royal 
colts."  He  looked  carefully  at  the  inside 
of  the  foreleg  just  below  the  armpit,  and 
found  a  small  brand.  "It  is,"  he  an- 
nounced. "By  Jove!  he  is  a  good- 
looker!" 

While  he  was  doing  this,  Lady  With- 
ers's  stud  groom,  Tripp,  came  out  and 
touched  his  cap.  "  'E  's  a  nice  one,  sir,'" 
said  Tripp. 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  71 

"He  is,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "Is  the 
other  one  as  good?" 

"Other  one,  sir?"  said  Tripp.  "Wot 
other?" 

"The  other  American  horse  that  came 
with  him,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"This  one  only  come  'alf  an  hour  ago," 
said  Tripp.  "  'E  's  Major  Hammerslea's 
'oss.  'E  bought  'im  last  week  at  Tatter- 
sails." 

"You  must  be  mistaken,  Tripp,"  said 
Barclay;  "this  is  one  of  the  horses  that 
we  had  sent  out  to  Mr.  Cecil." 

"Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Tripp ; 
"this  is  not  one  of  the  'osses  sent  out  to 
Mr.  Cecil;  this  is  Major  Hammerslea's 
'oss.  The  hanimals  that  arrived  from 
America  are  in  the  lower  stables." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Carteret;  and 
they  passed  on  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  Tripp.  "There  is  no  use  wasting 
breath  on  that  blockhead,"  he  said  to 
Barclay. 

In  the  court  of  the  lower  stables  they 
came  upon  Lady  Withers  and  the  Major 
inspecting  some  two-year-olds. 


72  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

"Good  morning,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
"I  gathered  from  your  note  that  you  are 
dissatisfied  with  the  horses.  Would  it  be 
too  much  to  tell  me  why?" 

"It  was  my  idea,"  said  Lady  Withers 
coldly,  "that  Cecil  should  undertake  the 
management  of  a  horse  agency,  not  a 
zoo." 

"I  am  still  in  the  dark,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret, "but  you  speak  as  if  they  had  given 
you  some  trouble." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  Major,  "it 
has  turned  out  precisely  as  I  said  it 
would." 

"But  it  can't  be  anything  very  serious," 
said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Oh,  no — it  is  nothing  serious,"  said 
Lady  Withers,  "to  have  two  grooms  in 
the  hospital  with  fractured  limbs,  and  to 
have  no  insurance  upon  them,  to  have 
Cecil  bitten  in  the  shoulder,  to  have  my 
breaking  harness  torn  to  pieces  and  Tripp 
giving  me  notice.  No  one  would  con- 
sider that  serious." 

"There  must  be  some  mistake  about 
this,"  said  Mr.  Carteret  blankly.  "As  I 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  73 

told  you,  these  horses  were  apt  to  buck 
playfully,  but,  if  properly  handled,  would 
cause  no  trouble." 

"It  may  be  playfulness,"  said  Lady 
Withers;  "I  saw  one  of  them  buck  the 
saddle  over  his  forelegs  and  head." 

"That  is  a  fact,"  said  the  Major.  "I 
had  read  of  such  a  thing,  but  had  never 
believed  it  possible." 

"It  is  possible,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "but 
not  with  our  horses." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  the  Major,  "as  I 
was  saying  to  Lady  Withers,  your  horses 
may  be  very  good  horses  in  their  own 
place  in  America,  but  they  are  not  at  all 
according  to  English  ideas." 

"At  the  same  time,"  observed  Mr.  Car- 
teret with  some  heat,  "I  noticed  that  you 
are  riding  one  of  them." 

The  Major  looked  at  him  in  amaze- 
ment. "I  ride  an  American  horse !  What 
do  you  mean,  sir?"  he  demanded. 

"The  chestnut  horse,"  began  Mr.  Car- 
teret, with  a  gesture  toward  the  upper 
stable. 

"The  chestnut  horse,"  said  the  Major, 


74  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

"I  bought  at  Tattersalls  three  days  ago. 
I  know  nothing  about  him  except  that  he 
was  quite  the  image  of  Prince  Royal,  a 
great  sire  that  I  once  owned." 

"That  is  hardly  surprising,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret;  "Prince  Royal  is  his  father. 
I  'm  certain  about  it  because  he  's  marked 
with  our  Prince  Royal  brand." 

The  Major  and  Lady  Withers  looked 
at  Mr.  Carteret,  and  then  at  each  other. 
Their  eyes  seemed  to  say,  "We  must 
humor  this  person  until  attendants  from 
the  madhouse  can  be  brought  to  secure 
him." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Lady  Withers,  "you 
would  care  to  see  your  horses." 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  other  one," 
he  answered  stubbornly,  and  they  went 
into  the  stable. 

Lady  Withers  paused  before  a  box- 
stall  which  was  boarded  up  to  the  ceiling. 
She  cautiously  opened  the  upper  half  of 
the  door,  and  peered  through  the  grating. 
Inside  was  a  strange,  thick-shouldered, 
goose-rumped,  lop-eared  brown  creature 
covered  with  shaggy  wool.  It  stood  on 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  75 

three  legs,  and  carried  its  head  low  like 
a  member  of  the  cat  family. 

"To  me,"  said  Lady  Withers,  "it  looks 
like  a  bear;  but  I  am  assured  that  it  is  a 
horse.  I  would  advise  you  not  to  go  near 
it.  This  is  the  one  that  bit  dear  Cecil." 

The  two  Americans  gazed  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"A  charming  type  of  hunter !"  observed 
Lady  Withers. 

Mr.  Carteret  made  no  reply.  He  was 
trying  to  think  it  out,  but  was  making  no 
headway.  While  thus  engaged  his  eyes 
wandered  down  the  stable  passage,  and  he 
saw  one  of  his  own  grooms  approaching. 
Almost  anything  was  pleasanter  than  con- 
templating the  creature  in  the  box-stall, 
so  he  watched  the  man  approach.  "I 
beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "but  the 
butler  sent  me  to  find  you,  sir,  with  a  tele- 
gram that  came  just  after  you  had  left." 

Mr.  Carteret  tore  open  the  envelop  and 
read  the  message,  which  was  a  long  one. 
As  he  finished  a  slight  sigh  escaped  him. 
"This  may  interest  the  Major,"  he  ob- 
served, "and  possibly  explain  various 


76  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

things."  He  handed  the  despatch  to 
Lady  Withers,  who  opened  her  lorgnette 
and  began  to  read  it  to  the  Major. 

Police  have  Jim  Siddons,  one  of  our  horse 
foremen.  Has  been  drunk  for  week.  Con- 
fesses he  sold  your  horses  at  auction,  but 
don't  know  where.  Believes  he  shipped  you 
two  outlaws.  "Smallpox,"  brand,  "arrow 
V,"  and  "Hospital,"  brand,  "barO."  Hos- 
pital dangerous  horse.  Killed  three  men. 
Look  out.  Very  sorry. 

REILLY. 

"Who  is  Reilly?"  asked  Lady  Withers. 

"Reilly,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "is  the 
horse  superintendent  of  Buffalo  Bill's 
show.  You  see  Buffalo  Bill  is  the  neigh- 
bor to  whom  I  cabled." 

"Then — "  began  Lady  Withers,  but  the 
Major  interrupted  her. 

"Does  this  mean,"  he  demanded,  "that 
I  have  bought  a  stolen  horse?" 

"It  means,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "that  if 
you  will  accept  an  American  horse  from 
Mr.  Barclay  and  myself,  we  shall  be  very 
much  flattered." 

"Really, — "  said  the  Major.    He  began 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  77 

to  enter  upon  one  of  his  discourses,  but 
stopped  as  he  saw  that  neither  Mr.  Car- 
teret  nor  Barclay  was  listening.  Instead, 
they  were  trying  to  make  out  the  brand 
on  the  creature  in  the  box-stall. 

"I  can  see  the  end  of  the  arrow,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret.  "This  is  Smallpox.  Where 
is  the  bad  one — Hospital?" 

"Where  is  the  other  one?"  asked  Lady 
Withers  of  a  stable-boy. 

"In  the  back  stable  yard,  your  Lady- 
ship," said  the  boy.  "Lady  Mary  is  rid- 
ing him." 

Each  one  of  the  four  looked  at  the 
other  speechless  with  horror. 

"Lady  Mary!"  gasped  the  Major. 

Mr.  Carteret  and  Barclay  started  for 
the  back  stable  yard,  but  Barclay  got  there 
first.  As  he  was  opening  the  gate,  Mr. 
Carteret  caught  up.  "Keep  your  head," 
he  observed.  There  were  sounds  of  hoof- 
beats,  exclamations  from  grooms  and 
other  indications  of  battle.  They  went  in 
and  saw  Lady  Mary  sitting  on  the  back  of 
a  creature  rather  more  hairy  and  unpleas- 
ant-looking than  Smallpox.  Her  face 


78  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

\vas  pink  with  exertion,  but  otherwise 
she  looked  as  neat,  unruffled,  and  slim 
as  she  always  did  in  the  saddle.  Hos- 
pital had  paused,  panting,  and  was  trying 
to  look  at  her  out  of  the  back  of  his  eyes 
in  sour  wonder.  He  was  not  defeated. 
He  was  merely  surprised  that  his  prelimi- 
nary exhibition  had  not  left  him  alone 
with  the  saddle.  When  there  was  only 
the  saddle  to  get  rid  of  he  usually  got 
down  to  business  and  "bucked  some,"  as 
they  say  in  Western  regions. 

Lady  Mary  nodded  as  they  entered, 
and  her  lips  parted  in  a  little  smile. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
He  saw  that  the  situation  was  serious  and 
fraught  with  difficulties.  And  there  was 
no  time  to  be  lost.  "I  've  something  ex- 
tremely important  to  tell  you,"  he  said  in 
a  matter-of-fact  tone.  "Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  get  your  leg  well  clear  of  the 
pommel  and  slip  off  that  horse?" 

"Well,  really,"  said  the  girl,  laughing, 
"it  is  so  unpleasant  getting  on  that  I 
should  rather  you  told  me  as  I  am." 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  79 

"I  will  explain  afterward,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret,  "but  you  would  oblige  me  very 
much  by  slipping  off  that  horse  imme- 
diately." 

The  girl  looked  at  him.  "I  see  through 
you,"  she  said,  "you  are  afraid  I  '11  get 
bucked  off." 

"It  would  be  no  disgrace,"  he  an- 
swered; "you  are  not  sitting  on  a  horse, 
but  on  an  explosion." 

"It  would  be  a  disgrace  to  get  off  be- 
cause you  were  afraid,"  said  the  girl. 
"Besides,"  she  continued  in  a  lower  voice, 
"I  'm  very  sorry  for  the  way  in  which  my 
aunt  and  Cecil  have  acted  in  this  matter. 
You  warned  them  that  the  horses  might 
buck  playfully.  You  know  the  Gran- 
vils  are  supposed  to  ride."  She  broke 
off  and  spoke  to  the  horse,  for  Hospital 
had  satisfied  his  curiosity  as  to  the  new- 
comers, and  was  walking  sidewise,  de- 
ciding whether  he  would  buck  some  more 
or  roll  over. 

Barclay  started  for  the  brute's  head, 
but  his  good  arm  was  seized  and  he  was 


8o  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

thrust  back.  "My  dear  girl,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret,  going  a  step  closer,  "if  you  have 
any  feelings  of  humanity," — he  looked 
very  grave,  but  there  was  a  smile  in  his 
eyes,  and  he  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  which 
nevertheless  was  plainly  audible  to  Bar- 
clay,—  "I  say,  if  you  have  any  feelings  of 
humanity,"  he  repeated,  "or  any  sense  of 
the  fitness  of  things,  get  off  that  horse  at 
once.  Here  is  a  young  man  with  a  bad 
arm  and  something  extremely  important 
on  his  mind  that  is  for  your  ear  alone, 
and  he  '11  unquestionably  get  killed  if  he 
goes  near  enough  that  horse  to  tell  you 
about  it.  Be  a  good  girl,"  he  added  in  a 
whisper,  "and  be  kind  to  him.  Perhaps 
he  's  worth  it."  A  quick  flush  came  into 
the  girl's  face.  And  Mr.  Carteret,  with- 
out glancing  back,  hurried  out  of  the 
paddock. 

Just  outside  the  gate  he  ran  into  Lady 
Withers,  the  Major,  and  Mr.  Tapping- 
well-Sikes,  who  had  just  arrived.  They 
had  been  following  as  fast  as  they  could. 

"What  has  happened?"  demanded  the 
Major,  much  out  of  breath. 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  81 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Carteret; 
"but  we  '11  all  know  in  a  few  minutes." 

Lady  Withers  looked  at  him  in  amaze- 
ment, and  tried  to  brush  past;  but  he 
barred  the  way.  "There  is  nothing  you 
can  do,"  he  said.  "If  she  chooses  to  stay 
on  Hospital,  it  's  too  late  to  get  her  off 
without  a  breeches-buoy.  If  she  got 
down,  these  are  moments  when  she 
must  n't  be  interrupted." 

"Are  you  mad?"  said  Lady  Withers, 
"or  am  I?" 

"Neither  of  us  is  mad,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret, "but  I  have  just  proposed  to  Lady 
Mary,  and  I  am  anxious  to  see  what  she 
is  going  to  do  about  it." 

Lady  Withers's  mouth  half  opened  in 
astonishment. 

"You  have  proposed!"  she  exclaimed, 
but  that  was  all.  She  looked  at  Mr.  Tap- 
pingwell-Sikes,  and  then  again  at  Mr. 
Carteret. 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  Major,  "it  would 
be  well  for  Mr.  Sikes  and  me  to  with- 
draw." 

"Your  presence  is  very  agreeable  at  all 


82  HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED 

times,"  said  Mr.  Carteret;  "but  really 
there  is  nothing  that  you  can  do."  The 
Major  and  Mr.  Tappingwell-Sikes  with- 
drew. 

"But  I  did  n't  know  that  you  were  in- 
terested in  Mary,"  said  Lady  Withers, 
coming  to  her  senses.  "Perhaps  I  had 
better  have  a  word  with  her.  The  dear 
child  is  so  young  that  she  may  not  know 
her  own  mind." 

"I  think  she  does  by  this  time,"  he  re- 
plied. The  gate  opened,. and  Barclay  and 
Mary  Granvil  stood  in  the  gateway. 
"I  'm  rather  sure  of  it,"  he  added.  "You 
can  see  for  yourself." 

"But — "  said  Lady  Withers,  looking 
accusingly  at  Mr.  Carteret.  She  was 
fairly  dum founded. 

"It  was  I  that  proposed,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret,  "but  the  beneficiary  is  appar- 
ently Barclay." 

"It  is,"  said  Barclay. 

All  Lady  Withers  could  do  was  to  gasp 
hysterically,  "How  very  American !" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "The 
vicarious  proposal  is  essentially  Euro- 


HOW  MR.  CARTERET  PROPOSED  83 

pean.  I  think,"  he  added,  "all  that  re- 
mains for  you  to  do  is  to  confer  your 
blessing." 

As  Lady  Withers  gazed  at  her  niece 
she  saw  in  those  gray  Granvil  eyes  the 
magical  light  that  is  so  sad  to  those  that 
are  without  it,  and  she  saw  in  her  face 
the  loveliness  and  other  consequences  of 
being  sweet.  The  ghosts  of  what  she  her- 
self might  have  had  and  what  she  herself 
might  have  been  thronged  back  to  her. 
Her  hard,  world-scarred  heart  trembled; 
tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  and  without  speak- 
ing and  without  a  single  false  beam  or 
sparkle  she  took  the  girl  to  her  breast  and 
kissed  her. 

Mr.  Carteret  turned  away  and  followed 
the  Major  and  Tappingwell-Sikes.  There 
was  something  in  his  throat  that  he  felt 
would  make  it  difficult  for  him  to  con- 
tribute anything  illuminating  to  the  situ- 
ation. 


MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 
WITH  A  LOCKET 


Ill 

MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE  WITH 
A  LOCKET 

MRS.  ASCOTT-SMITH  knew  that 
Mr.  Carteret  had  been  attentive  to 
.Miss  Rivers,  but  she  had  never  known 
how  attentive.  She  never  suspected  that 
the,  affair  had  reached  the  point  of  an 
engagement,  subsequently  broken  by  Miss 
Rivers.  If  she  had  known  the  facts, 
she  would  not  have  invited  Mr.  Carteret 
to  Chilliecote  Abbey  when  Miss  Rivers 
and  Captain  Wynford  were  there. 

Yet  the  presence  of  Miss  Rivers  and 
Wynford  was  not  the  reason  that  Mr. 
Carteret  gave  himself  for  declining  the 
invitation.  He  did  not  dread  meeting 
Miss  Rivers ;  she  was  nothing  to  him  but 
a  mistake  and  an  old  friend.  Whether 
she  married  Wynford  or  some  other  man, 
it  was  the  same  to  him.  The  affair  was 
87 


88       MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

over.  He  even  had  it  in  mind  to  get 
married  before  very  long,  if  only  to 
prove  it. 

He  was  in  such  a  mood  as  he  walked 
down  the  passage  to  the  smoking-room 
with  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith's  note  crumpled 
in  his  hand.  His  eyes  looked  straight 
before  him  and  saw  nothing.  Behind 
him  there  followed  the  soft,  whisper- 
ing tread  of  cushioned  feet,  and  that 
he  did  not  hear.  Perhaps  it  was  not 
because  he  was  absorbed  that  he  did 
not  hear  it,  for  it  was  always  follow- 
ing him,  and  he  had  ceased  to  note  it,  as 
one  ceases  to  note  the  clock  ticking.  But 
as  he  sat  down,  he  felt  the  touch  of  a  cold 
nose  on  his  hand  and  one  little  lick.  He 
glanced  down,  and  looked  into  the  sad, 
wistful  eyes  of  the  wire-haired  fox  ter- 
rier. With  this,  Penwiper  dropped  gravely 
upon  the  floor,  gazing  up  adoring  and 
mournful,  yet  content.  Mr.  Carteret  was 
used  to  this  idolatry,  as  he  was  used  to 
the  patter  of  the  following  footsteps,  but 
on  this  occasion  it  provoked  speculation. 
It  occurred  to  him  to  wonder  how  in  a 


WITH  A  LOCKET  89 

just  universe  a  devotion  like  Penwiper's 
would  be  repaid.  Then  he  wondered  if, 
after  all,  it  was  a  just  universe.  If  so, 
why  should  Penwiper  have  that  look 
chronically  in  his  eyes  ? 

Presently  Mr.  Carteret  got  up  and  took 
the  newspapers.  He  was  annoyed  with 
himself  and  annoyed  with  Penwiper.  It 
was  the  dog  that  called  up  these  disquiet- 
ing ideas.  The  dog  was  irrevocably  asso- 
ciated with  Miss  Rivers.  He  had  given 
her  Penwiper  as  an  engagement  present, 
and  when  the  affair  ended,  she  had  sent 
him  back.  He  ought  not  to  have  taken 
him  back.  He  felt  that  it  had  been  a 
great  mistake  to  become  interested  again 
in  Penwiper,  as  it  had  been  a  great  mis- 
take to  become  interested  at  all  in  Miss 
Rivers.  He  continued  to  peruse  the  news- 
papers till  he  found  that  he  was  reading 
a  paragraph  for  the  third  time.  Then  he 
got  up  and  went  out  to  the  stables. 

MARCH  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  with 
it  the  hunting  season,  when  there  dawned 
one  of  those  celestial  mornings  that  are 


90       MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

appropriate  to  May,  but  in  England  some- 
times appear  earlier.  It  brought  to  the 
meet  five  hundred  English  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, complaining  that  it  was  too  hot  to 
hunt.  In  this  great  assemblage  Mr.  Car- 
teret  found  himself  riding  about,  saying 
"good  morning,"  automatically  inquiring 
of  Lady  Martingale  about  the  chestnut 
mare's  leg,  parrying  Mrs.  Cutcliffe's  will- 
ingness to  let  him  a  house,  and  avoiding 
Captain  Coper's  anxiety  to  sell  him  a  horse. 
He  was  not  aware  that  he  was  restless  or 
that  he  threaded  his  way  through  one 
group  after  another,  acting  as  usually  he 
did  not  act,  until  Major  Hammerslea 
asked  him  if  he  was  looking  for  his  second 
horseman.  Then  he  rode  off  by  himself, 
and  stood  still.  He  had  seen  pretty  much 
everybody  that  was  out,  yet  he  had  come 
upon  none  of  the  Chilliecote  party.  How- 
ever, as  he  asked  himself  twice,  "What 
was  that  to  him  ?" 

A  few  minutes  later  they  jogged  on  to 
covert  and  began  to  draw.  A  fox  went 
away,  the  hounds  followed  him  for  two 
fields,  then  flashed  over  and  checked. 


WITH  A  LOCKET  91 

After  that  they  could  make  nothing  of  it. 
The  fox-hunting  authorities  said  that 
there  was  no  scent. 

At  two  o'clock  they  were  pottering 
about  Tunbarton  Wood,  having  had  a 
disappointing  morning.  The  second 
horsemen  came  up  with  sandwich-boxes, 
and,  scattered  in  groups  among  the  broad 
rides,  people  ate  lunch,  smoked,  enjoyed 
the  sunshine,  and  grumbled  at  the  weather, 
which  made  sport  impossible.  And  then 
the  unexpected  happened,  as  in  fox-hunt- 
ing it  usually  does.  Hounds  found  in  a 
far  corner  of  the  wood,  and  disappeared 
on  a  burning  scent  before  any  one  could 
get  to  them.  Instantly  the  world  seemed 
to  be  filled  with  people  galloping  in  all 
directions,  inquiring  where  hounds  had 
gone,  and  receiving  no  satisfactory  an- 
swer. Experience  had  taught  Mr.  Car- 
teret  that  under  such  conditions  the  most 
unfortunate  thing  to  do  is  to  follow  others 
who  know  as  little  as  one's  self.  Accord- 
ingly he  opened  a  hand  gate,  withdrew  a 
few  yards  into  a  secluded  lane,  pulled  up, 
and  tried  to  think  like  a  fox.  This  idea 


92       MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

had  been  suggested  by  Mr.  Kipling's 
Gloucester  fisherman  who  could  think  like 
a  cod.  While  he  was  thinking,  he  saw  a 
great  many  people  gallop  by  in  the  high- 
way in  both  directions.  He  noted  Major 
Hammerslea,  who  was  apt  to  be  conspic- 
uous when  there  was  hard  riding  on  the 
road,  leading  a  detachment  of  people 
north.  He  noted  Lady  Martingale,  who 
liked  fences  better  than  roads,  leading  a 
charge  south.  And  following  Lady  Mar- 
tingale he  noted  Captain  Wynford.  Ap- 
parently, then,  the  Abbey  people  were  out, 
after  all.  "Perhaps  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith 
will  turn  up,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  he 
followed  Wynford  with  his  eyes  until  he 
was  out  of  sight,  but  saw  neither  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith  nor  any  one  else  who  might 
have  been  under  his  escort. 

After  a  while  there  were  no  more  peo- 
ple going  by  in  either  direction.  Some- 
thing like  a  sigh  escaped  him;  then  he  lit 
a  cigarette. 

"If  I  were  the  hunted  fox,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I  think  I  should  have  circled 
over  Crumpelow  Hill,  and  then  bent  south 


WITH  A  LOCKET  93 

with  the  idea  of  getting  to  ground  in  Nor- 
manhurst  Wood.  I  '11  take  a  try  at  it." 

He  rode  off  down  the  lane  to  the  east- 
ward, riding  slowly,  for  there  was  no 
hurry.  If  he  was  right,  he  would  be 
ahead  of  the  fox.  If  he  was  wrong,  he 
was  so  far  behind  that  it  made  no  dif- 
ference what  he  did.  So  he  jogged  on  up 
and  down  hill,  and  smoked.  He  rode  thus 
for  about  two  miles  when  his  hope  began 
to  wither.  On  every  side  stretched  the 
winter-green,  rolling  country  fenced  into 
a  patchwork  of  great  pastures.  In  the 
distance,  to  the  south,  lay  the  brown-gray 
mass  of  Normanhurst  Wood.  The  land- 
scape was  innocent  of  any  gleam  of  scar- 
let coat  or  black  figure  of  horseman  on 
hilltop  against  the  sky. 

"I  'm  wrong,"  he  said  half  aloud.  "I 
guess  I  could  think  better  as  a  codfish 
than  as  a  fox." 

A  moment  later  he  saw  fresh  hoof- 
prints  crossing  the  lane  in  front  of  him, 
and  it  burst  upon  him  that  his  theory  was 
right,  but  that  he  was  too  late.  A  dozen 
people  must  have  crossed.  They  had 


94       MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

come  into  the  lane  through  a  hand  gate, 
and  had  jumped  out  over  some  rails  that 
mended  a  gap  in  the  tall,  bushy  hedge. 
Beside  the  hoof-prints  was  the  evidence 
of  a  rail  that  was  freshly  broken.  He 
contemplated  the  situation  judicially. 

"How  far  behind  I  am,"  he  said  to 
himself,  *'I  do  not  know;  whether  these 
people  are  following  hounds  or  Lady 
Martingale  I  do  not  know :  but  anything 
is  better  than  going  down  this  intermin- 
able lane."  So  he  put  his  horse  at  the 
place  where  the  rail  was  broken.  The 
next  instant,  the  horse,  which  was  overfed 
and  under-exercised,  jumped  high  over  the 
low  rail,  and  jammed  his  hat  against  an 
overhanging  bough,  and,  on  landing,  ran 
away.  When  Mr.  Carteret  got  him  in 
hand,  they  were  well  out  into  the  field, 
and  he  began  to  look  along  the  farther 
fence  for  a  place  to  jump  out. 

In  doing  this  he  noticed  at  the  end  of 
the  long  pasture  a  horse  grazing,  and  it 
looked  to  him  as  if  the  horse  were  saddled. 
He  glanced  around,  expecting  to  see  an 
unhappy  man  stalking  a  lost  mount,  but 


WITH  A  LOCKET  95 

there  was  no  one  in  sight.  So  he  rode 
toward  the  horse.  As  he  came  nearer  he 
saw  that  the  saddle  was  a  woman's.  The 
horse  made  no  attempt  to  run  away,  and 
Mr.  Carteret  caught  it.  One  glance 
showed  him  that  there  was  mud  on  its 
ears,  mud  on  its  rump,  and  that  one  of  the 
pommels  was  broken.  Immediately,  al- 
though he  had  never  seen  horse  or  saddle 
before,  a  strange  and  unreasonable  appre- 
hension seized  him.  He  felt  that  it  was 
Miss  Rivers's  horse ;  and  yet  his  common 
sense  told  him  that  the  idea  was  absurd. 
She  was  probably  not  out  hunting,  and 
if  she  were,  the  chances  were  a  thousand 
to  one  against  it  being  she.  Neverthe- 
less, he  opened  the  sandwich-box  strapped 
to  the  saddle  and  took  out  the  silver  case. 
It  bore  the  inscription  S.  R.  from  C.  C. 
If  he  could  believe  his  eyes,  the  thousand- 
to-one  chance  had  come  off. 

He  looked  about  him  dazed.  There 
was  no  one  in  sight. 

"It  must  have  happened  back  a  way," 
he  said  half  aloud,  "and  the  horse  fol- 
lowed the  hunt." 


96       MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

Mounting,  he  led  it  by  its  bridle-reins, 
and  began  to  gallop  toward  the  place 
where  the  fence  had  been  broken.  Ap- 
proaching the  broken  rail,  he  began  to 
pull  up  when  his  eye  caught  something 
dark  upon  the  grass  close  to  the  hedge. 

One  look,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  a 
woman  and  that  it  was  Sally  Rivers.  She 
was  lying  on  her  back,  motionless,  her 
white  face  looking  up,  her  arms  at  her 
side,  almost  as  if  she  were  asleep.  The 
apprehensive  intuition  that  had  come  to 
him  at  the  sight  of  the  broken  saddle  came 
again  and  told  him  that  she  was  dead.  It 
must  be  so.  That  afternoon  they  were  in 
the  grasp  of  one  of  those  terrible  pranks 
of  fate  that  are  told  as  strange  "true 
stories." 

But  she  was  not  dead.  He  realized 
it  when  he  bent  over  her  and  took  her 
pulse.  It  was  reasonably  strong.  The 
injury  was  obviously  a  concussion,  for  her 
hat  lay  beside  her,  crushed  and  torn  off  by 
the  fall.  Her  breathing,  though  hardly 
normal,  was  not  alarming,  and  it  seemed 
to  be  growing  deeper  and  more  peaceful 


She  was  not  dead.    lie  realized  it  when  he  bent  over  her 


WITH  A  LOCKET  99 

even  as  he  watched.  There  were  indica- 
tions that  she  would  come  to  presently. 
After  all,  it  was  only  such  an  accident  as 
claims  its  daily  victim  in  the  hunting 
countries.  It  was  nothing  to  be  alarmed 
about.  As  the  strain  relaxed,  he  became 
aware  of  its  tensity.  He  was  limp  now, 
and  shaking  like  a  leaf,  and  then  the  ques- 
tion put  itself  to  him,  Was  this  because  he 
had  found  a  woman  that  he  believed  dead 
or  because  that  woman  was  Sally  Rivers  ? 
There  was  only  one  honest  answer.  He 
made  it,  and  in  his  inner  heart  he  was 
glad. 

Nevertheless,  he  still  protested  that  it 
was  absurd,  that  the  affair  was  over. 
Even  if  there  were  no  Wynford,  he  knew 
that  she  would  never  change  her  mind; 
and,  then,  there  was  Wynford.  Even 
now  he  was  sitting  beside  her  only  be- 
cause her  eyes  were  sightless,  because  she 
herself  was  away.  When  she  came  back, 
it  would  be  trespass  to  remain.  He  was 
in  another's  place.  It  was  Wynford  who 
ought  to  have  found  her. 

If  he  could  have  stolen  away  he  would 


ioo      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

have  done  so.  But  that  being  .impossible, 
he  fell  to  watching  her  as  if  she  were  not 
herself,  but  a  room  that  she  had  once 
lived  in— a  room  that  he  too  had  known, 
that  was  delightful  with  associations  and 
fragrant  with  faint  memory-stirring  per- 
fumes. And  yet,  though  the  tenant 
seemed  to  be  away,  was  it  not  after  all 
her  very  self  that  was  before  him  ?  There 
was  the  treasure  of  her  brown  hair,  with 
the  gold  light  in  it,  tumbled  in  heaps  about 
her  head;  there  was  the  face  that  had 
been  for  him  the  loveliness  of  early  morn- 
ing in  gardens,  that  had  haunted  him  in 
the  summer  perfume  of  clover-fields  and 
in  the  fragrance  of  night-wrapped  lawns. 
There  was  the  slim,  rounded  figure  that 
once  had  brought  the  blood  into  his  face 
as  it  brushed  against  him.  There  were 
the  hands  whose  touch  was  so  smooth  and 
cool  and  strong.  Presently  he  found  him- 
self wiping  the  mud  from  her  cheek  as  if 
he  were  enacting  a  ritual  over  some  holy 
thing.  He  looked  around.  No  human 
being  was  in  sight.  The  afternoon  sun 
shone  mildly.  In  the  hedgerow  some  little 


WITH  A  LOCKET  101 

birds  twittered  pleasantly,  and  sang  their 
private  little  songs. 

Suddenly  she  opened  her  eyes.  She 
looked  up  at  him,  knew  him,  and  smiled. 

"Hello,  Carty,"  she  said  in  her  low, 
vibrant  tones.  A  thrill  ran  through  him. 
It  was  the  way  it  used  to  be. 

"You  've  had  a  bad  fall,"  he  said. 
"How  do  you  feel?" 

A  little  laugh  came  into  her  eyes. 
"How  do  I  look?"  she  murmured. 

"You  're  coming  out  all  right,"  he  said; 
"but  you  must  n't  talk  just  yet." 

"If  I  want  to,"  she  said  slowly.  Her 
eyes  laughed  again.  "If  I  want  to,  I  '11 
talk." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Hear  him  boss !"  she  murmured.  She 
looked  up  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
her  eyes  closed.  But  it  was  not  the  same. 
The  lashes  lay  more  lightly,  and  a  tinge  of 
color  had  come  into  her  cheeks.  He  sat 
and  watched  her,  his  mind  a  confusion,  a 
great  gladness  in  his  heart. 

In  a  little  while  she  opened  her  eyes  as 
before.  "Hello,  Carty,"  she  began,  but 


102      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

Mr.  Carteret's  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  sound  of  wheels  in  the  lane.  He  saw 
an  old  phaeton,  driven  by  a  farmer,  com- 
ing toward  them. 

The  man  saw  him,  and  stopped.  "Is 
this  the  place  where  a  lady  was  hurt  ?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "How  did 
you  know?" 

"A  boy  told  me,"  said  the  farmer. 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

At  first  she  was  independent  and  per- 
sisted in  walking  to  the  trap  by  herself. 
But  as  they  drove  off,  she  began  to  sway, 
and  caught  herself  on  his  arm.  After  a 
moment  she  looked  at  him  helplessly;  a 
little  smile  shone  in  her  eyes  and  curved 
the  corners  of  her  mouth.  At  the  next 
jolt  her  head  settled  peacefully  upon  his 
shoulder.  Her  eyes  closed.  She  seemed 
to  be  asleep. 

They  drove  on  at  a  walk,  the  led  horses 
following.  The  shadows  lengthened,  the 
gold  light  of  the  afternoon  grew  more 
golden.  They  passed  through  the  ancient 
village  of  Tibberton  and  heard  the  rooks 


WITH  A  LOCKET  103 

calling  in  the  parsonage  trees.  They 
passed  through  Normanhurst  Park,  under 
oaks  that  may  have  sheltered  Robin  Hood, 
and  the  rooks  were  calling  there.  In  the 
silent  stretches  of  the  road  they  heard  the 
first  thrushes  and  the  evening  singing  of 
the  warblers.  And  every  living  thing, 
bird,  tree,  and  grass,  bore  witness  that  it 
was  spring. 

For  two  hours  Mr.  Carteret  hardly 
breathed.  He  was  riding  in  the  silver 
bubble  of  a  dream;  a  breath,  and  it 
might  be  gone.  At  the  Abbey,  perforce, 
there  was  an  end  of  it.  He  roused  her 
quietly,  and  she  responded.  She  was  able 
to  walk  up  the  steps  on  his  arm,  and  stood 
till  the  bell  was  answered.  When  he  left 
her  in  the  confusion 'inside  she  gave  him 
her  hand.  It  had  the  same  cool,  smooth 
touch  as  of  old,  but  its  strength  was  gone. 
It  lay  in  his  hand  passive  till  he  released 
it.  "Good  night,"  he  said,  and  hurrying 
out,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away. 
He  passed  some  people  coming  back  from 
hunting,  and  they  seemed  vague  and  un- 
real. He  seemed  unreal  himself.  He  al- 


KM      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

most  doubted  if  the  whole  thing  were  not 
illusion;  but  on  the  shoulder  of  his  scarlet 
coat  clung  a  thread  that  glistened  as  the 
evening  sun  fell  upon  it,  and  a  fragrance 
that  went  into  his  blood  like  some  celestial 
essence. 

When  he  got  home,  the  afterglow  was 
dying  in  the  west.  The  rooks  were 
hushed,  the  night  was  already  falling,  and 
the  lamps  were  lit.  As  he  passed  through 
his  hallway,  there  came  the  touch  of  a 
cold  nose  and  the  one  little  lick  upon  his 
hand.  "Get  down,  Penwiper,"  he  said 
unthinkingly,  and  went  on. 

That  week,  before  they  let  her  see  peo- 
ple, Mr.  Carteret  lived  in  a  world  that 
had  only  its  outward  circumstances  in  the 
world  where  others  lived.  He  made  no 
attempt  to  explain  it  or  to  justify  it  or  yet 
to  leave  it.  Several  of  his  friends  noticed 
the  change  in  him,  and  ascribed  it  to  the 
vague  abstraction  of  biliousness. 

It  was  a  raw  Sunday  afternoon  and  he 
was  standing  before  the  fire  in  the  Abbey 
library,  when  Miss  Rivers  came  noise- 
lessly, unexpectedly,  in.  Mrs.  Ascott- 


WITH  A  LOCKET  105 

Smith,  who  was  playing  piquet  with  the 
Major,  started  up  in  surprise.  Miss 
Rivers  had  been  ordered  not  to  leave  her 
room  till  the  next  day. 

"But  I  'm  perfectly  well,"  said  the  girl ; 
"I  could  n't  stand  it  any  longer.  They 
would  n't  so  much  as  tell  me  the  day  of 
the  month."  Then  for  the  first  time  she 
saw  Mr.  Carteret.  "Why,  Carty!"  she 
exclaimed.  "How  nice  it  is  to  see  you !" 

"Thank  you,"  he  answered.  Their 
eyes  met,  and  he  felt  his  heart  beating. 
As  for  Miss  Rivers,  she  flushed,  dropped 
her  eyes,  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Ascott- Smith. 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  said  the  Major, 
impressively,  as  he  glanced  through  his 
cards,  "it  is  highly  imprudent  of  you  to 
disobey  the  doctor.  Always  obey  the  doc- 
tor. I  once  knew  a  charming  young 
lady-" 

"I  hope  I  'm  not  rude,"  she  interrupted, 
"but  I  might  as  well-  die  of  concussion  as 
die  of  being  bored." 

"But  you  had  such  a  very  bad  toss,  my 
dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith. 

"What  one  does  n't  remember,  does  n't 


106     MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

trouble  one,"  observed  the  girl.  "In  a 
sense  it  has  n't  happened."  She  paused 
and  then  went  on  with  a  carelessness  that 
was  a  little  overdone :  "What  did  happen, 
anyway?  The  usual  things,  I  fancy?  I 
suppose  somebody  picked  me  up  and 
brought  me  home." 

Mr.  Carteret's  face  was  a  mask. 

"But  you  remember  that!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Ascott-Smith. 

"I  don't  remember  anything,"  said  Miss 
Rivers,  "until  one  evening  I  woke  up  in  bed 
and  heard  the  rooks  calling  in  the  park." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ascott-Smith, 
"you  said  good-by  to  him  in  the  hallway, 
and  thanked  him,  and  then  you  walked 
up-stairs  with  a  footman  at  your  elbow." 

"That  is  very  strange,"  said  Miss 
Rivers.  "I  don't  remember.  Who  was  it 
that  I  said  good-by  to?  Whom  did  I 
thank?" 

Mr.  Carteret  walked-  toward  the  win- 
dow as  if  he  were  watching  the  pheasant 
that  was  strutting  across  the  lawn. 

Mrs.  Ascott-Smith  folded  her  cards  in 
her  hand  and  looked  at  the  girl  in  amaze- 


WITH  A  LOCKET  107 

ment.  "Mr.  Carteret  found  you  in  a 
field,"  she  said,  "not  far  from  Crumpelow 
Hill  and  brought  you  home.  You  said 
good-by  to  him." 

At  the  mention  of  Mr.  Carteret's  name 
the  girl's  hand  felt  for  the  back  of  a  chair, 
as  if  to  steady  herself.  Then,  as  the  color 
rushed  into  her  face,  aware  of  it,  she 
stepped  back  into  the  shadow.  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith  continued  to  gaze.  Presently 
Miss  Rivers  turned  to  Mr.  Carteret. 
"This  is  a  surprise  to  me,"  she  said  in  a 
voice  like  ice.  "How  much  I  am  in  your 
debt,  you  better  than  any  one  can  under- 
stand." 

He  turned  as  if  a  blow  had  struck  him, 
and  looked  at  her.  Her  eyes  met  his  un- 
flinchingly, colder  than  her  words,  wither- 
ing with  resentment  and  contempt.  Mrs. 
Ascott-Smith  opened  her  cards  again  and 
began  ,to  count :  "Tierce  to  the  king  and 
a  point  of  five,"  she  muttered  vaguely. 
Her  mind  and  the  side  glance  of  her  eyes 
were  upon  the  girl  and  the  young  man. 
What  did  it  mean?  "A  point  of  five," 
she  repeated. 


io8     MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

Mr.  Carteret  hesitated  a  moment;  he 
feared  to  trust  his  voice.  Then  he  gath- 
ered himself  and  bowed  to  Mrs.  Ascott- 
Smith.  "I  have  people  coming  to  tea;  I 
must  be  off.  Good  night."  His  impulse 
-was  to  pass  the  girl  with  the  formality  of 
a  bow,  but  he  checked  it.  With  an  effort 
he  stopped.  "Good  night,"  he  said  and 
put  out  his  hand.  Her  eyes  met  his  with- 
out a  glimmer  of  expression.  She  was 
looking  through  him  into  nothing.  His 
hand  dropped  to  his  side.  His  face  grew 
white.  He  went  on  and  out.  As  the  door 
closed  behind  him  he  heard  Mrs.  Ascott- 
Smith  counting  for  the  third  time, 
"Tierce  to  the  king,  and  a  point  of  five." 

He  reached  his  house.  In  his  own  hall- 
way he  was  giving  orders  that  he  was  not 
at  home  when  he  felt  the  cold  nose  and 
the  one  little  lick,  and  looking  down,  he 
saw  the  sad  eyes  fixed  upon  his.  He  went 
down  the  passageway  to  the  smoking- 
room,  and  the  patter  of  following  feet 
was  at  his  heels.  He  closed  the  door, 
dropped  into  a  chair,  gave  a  nod  of  assent, 
and  Penwiper  jumped  into  his  arms. 


WITH  A  LOCKET  109 

When  he  could  think,  he  constructed 
many  explanations  for  the  mystery  of  her 
behavior,  and  dismissed  them  successively 
because  they  did  not  explain.  Why  she 
should  resent  so  bitterly  his  having 
brought  her  home  was  inexplicable  on  any 
other  ground  than  that  she  was  still  out 
of  her  head.  He  would  insist  upon  an 
explanation,  but,  after  all,  what  differ- 
ence could  it  make?  Whatever  reason 
there  might  be,  the  important  fact  was 
that  she  had  acted  as  she  had.  That  was 
the  only  fact  which  mattered.  Her  greet- 
ing of  him  when  she  first  opened  her  eyes, 
the  drive  home,  the  parting  in  the  hall- 
way, were  all  things  that  had  never  hap- 
pened for  her.  For  him  they  were  only 
dreams.  He  must  force  them  out  into  the 
dim  region  of  forgotten  things. 

On  the  next  Tuesday  he  saw  her  at  the 
meet — came  upon  her  squarely,  so  that 
there  was  no  escaping.  She  was  pale  and 
sick-looking,  and  was  driving  herself  in 
a  pony  trap.  He  lifted  his  hat,  but  she 
turned  away.  After  he  had  ridden  by, 
he  turned  back  and,  stopping  just  behind 


i io      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

her,  slipped  off  his  horse.  "Sally,"  he 
said,  "I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

She  looked  around  with  a  start.  "I 
should  prefer  not,"  she  answered. 

"You  must,"  he  said.  "I  have  a 
right-" 

"Do  you  talk  to  me  about  your  right  ?" 
she  said.  Her  gray  eyes  flashed. 

He  met  her  anger  steadily.  "I  do,"  he 
replied.  "You  can't  treat  me  in  this 
way." 

"How  else  do  you  deserve  to  be 
treated?"  she  demanded  fiercely. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  said. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  she  re- 
torted. "You  know  what  you  did." 

"What  I  did!"  he  exclaimed.  "What 
have  I  done?" 

"Why  do  you  act  this  way,  Carty  ?"  she 
said  wearily.  "Why  do  you  make  mat- 
ters worse?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  perplexity.  "Don't 
you  believe  me,"  he  said,  "when  I  tell  you 
that  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  ?" 

"How   can   I   believe   you,"    she   an- 


WITH  A  LOCKET  in 

swered,  "when  I  have  the  proof  that  you 
do?" 

"The  proof?"  he  echoed.  "What 
proof?" 

His  blank  surprise  shook  her  confidence 
for  an  instant.  "You  know  well  enough," 
she  said.  "You  forgot  to  put  back  the 
violet." 

"The  violet?"  he  repeated.  "In 
Heaven's  name  what  are  you  talking 
about?" 

She  studied  his  face.  Again  her  con- 
viction was  shaken,  and  she  trembled  in 
spite  of  herself.  But  she  saw  no  other 
way.  "I  can't  believe  you,"  she  said 
sadly. 

He  made  no  answer,  but  a  change  came 
over  his  face.  His  patience  had  gone. 
His  anger  was  kindling.  It  began  to 
frighten  her.  She  summoned  her  will 
and  made  an  effort  to  hold  her  ground. 
"Will  you  swear,"  she  said — "will  you 
swear  you  did  n't  open  the  locket  ?" 

Still  he  made  no  reply. 

"Nor  shut  it?"  she  went  on.  She  was 
pleading  now. 


112      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

"Sally,"  he  said  in  a  strange  voice,  "I 
neither  opened  nor  closed  nor  saw  a 
locket.  What  has  a  locket  to  do  with 
this?" 

She  looked  at  him  blankly  in  terror,  for 
suddenly  she  knew  that  he  was  speaking 
the  truth.  "Then  what  has  happened?" 
she  murmured. 

"You  must  tell  that,"  he  said. 

"I  only  know  this,"  she  began :  "I  wore 
a  locket  the  day  of  the  accident.  There 
was  a  pressed  flower  in  it."  The  color 
began  to  rise  in  her  cheeks  again.  "When 
I  came  to,  the  flower  was  gone,  so  I  knew 
the  locket  had  been  opened." 

For  a  moment  he  was  speechless.  "And 
you  treat  me  as  you  have,"  he  cried,  "on 
the  suspicion  of  my  opening  this  locket !" 

She  made  no  answer. 

He  laughed  harshly.  "You  think  of 
me  as  a  man  who  would  open  your 
locket!" 

Still  she  made  no  answer. 

His  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper.  "O 
Sally!  Sally!"  he  exclaimed. 

"There  are  things  on  my  side!"  she  said 


WITH  A  LOCKET  113 

protestingly  at  last.  "You  can't  under- 
stand because  you  don't  know  what  was 
in  the  locket." 

"I  could  guess,"  he  said. 

She  went  on,  ignoring  his  remark: 
"And  you  have  no  explanation  as  to  how 
it  was  opened  and  closed  again.  What 
ami  to  think?" 

"Sally,"  he  said  more  gently,  "is  n't  it 
possible  that  the  locket  was  shaken  open 
when  you  fell  and  that  the  people  who 
put  you  to  bed  closed  it?" 

"My  maid  put  me  to  bed,"  said  the  girl ; 
"she  says  the  locket  when  she  saw  it  was 
dosed." 

"Then  perhaps  the  flower  was  lost  be- 
fore, and  you  had  forgotten,"  he  sug- 
gested. 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  an- 
swered, "the  maid  found  the  flower  when 
she  undressed  me.  She  gave  it  to  me  when 
I  came  to.  That  is  how  my  attention  was 
called  to  it." 

"Then  strange  as  it  seems,"  he  said 
calmly,  "the  thing  must  have  jarred  open, 
the  flower  dropped  out,  and  the  locket 


H4      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

shut  again  of  itself.  There  is  no  other 
way." 

"Perhaps,"  she  said. 

"Perhaps !"  he  repeated.  "What  other 
way  could  there  have  been  ?" 

"There  could  n't  have  been  any  other 
way,"  she  assented,  "if  you  say  you  did  n't 
see  it  when  you  loosened  my  habit." 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 
"Loosened  your  habit?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  said;  "you  loosened  my 
habit  when  I  was  hurt." 

"No,"  he  answered. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  demanded, 
"that  you  did  n't  loosen  and  cut  things?" 

"Most  certainly  not,"  he  replied. 

"But,  Carty,"  she  exclaimed,  "some 
one  did !  Who  was  it  ?" 

Just  then  Lady  Martingale  rode  up  to 
inquire  how  Miss  Rivers  was  recovering, 
and  Mr.  Carteret  mounted  and  rode 
away.  The  hounds  were  starting  off  to 
draw  Brinkwater  gorse,  but  he  rode  in 
the  opposite  direction  toward  Crumpelow 
Hill.  There  he  found  the  farmer  who  had 
brought  them  home.  Through  him  he 


WITH  A  LOCKET  115 

found  the  boy  who  had  summoned  the 
farmer,  and  from  the  boy,  as  he  had 
hoped,  he  discovered  a  clew.  And  then 
he  fell  to  wondering  why  he  was  so  bent 
upon  clearing  the  matter  up.  At  most  it 
could  only  put  him  where  he  was  before 
the  day  of  the  accident.  It  could  not  make 
that  drive  home  real  or  make  what  she 
had  said  that  afternoon  her  utterance. 
She  would  acquit  him  of  prying  into  her 
affairs,  but  beyond  that  there  was  nothing 
to  hope.  Everything  that  he  had  recently 
learned  strengthened  his  conviction  that 
she  was  going  to  marry  Wynford.  It 
was  a  certainty.  Nevertheless,  from 
Crumpelow  Hill  he  rode  toward  the 
Abbey. 

It  was  nearly  four  o'clock  when  Miss 
Rivers  came  in.  He  rose  and  bowed  with 
a  playful,  exaggerated  ceremony.  ,  "I 
have  come,"  he  began,  in  a  studiedly  light 
key,  "because  I  have  solved  the  mystery." 

"I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said. 

"It  is  simple,"  he  went  on.  "Another 
man  picked  you  up,  and  put  you  where  I 
found  you.  Your  breathing  must  have 


n6      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

been  bad,  and  he  loosened  your  clothes. 
Probably  the  locket  had  flown  open  and 
he  shut  it.  Then  he  went  after  a  trap. 
Why  he  did  not  come  back,  I  don't 
know." 

"But  I  do,"  said  Miss  Rivers. 

He  looked  at  her  warily,  suspecting  a 
trap  for  the  man's  name.  He  preferred 
not  to  mention  that. 

"I  know,"  she  went  on,  "because  he 
has  told  me.  He  did  come  back  part 
way— till  he  saw  that  you  were  with 
me." 

Mr.  Carteret  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"More  than  that,"  she  went  on,  "the 
locket  had  jarred  open  and  he  saw  what 
was  in  it  and  closed  it.  Perhaps  that  was 
why  he  went  away.  Anyway,  after  think- 
ing about  it,  he  decided  that  it  was  best  to 
tell  me.  If  he  had  only  done  so  before!" 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  He  did 
not  see  at  all,  but  it  was  a  matter  about 
which  he  felt  that  he  could  not  ask  ques- 
tions. 

"You  know,"  she  said,  after  a  pause, 
"that  the  man  was  Captain  Wynford." 


WITH  A  LOCKET  117 

"Yes/*  he  answered  shortly.  His  tone 
changed.  "Wynford  is  a  good  man — a 
good  man,"  he  said  awkwardly.  "I  can 
congratulate  you  both  honestly."  He 
paused.  "Well,  I  must  go,"  he  went  on. 
"I  'm  glad  things  are  right  again  all  round. 
Good-by."  He  crossed  to  the  door,  and 
she  stood  watching  him.  She  had  grown 
very  pale. 

"Carty,"  she  said  suddenly,  in  a  dry 
voice,  "I  'm  not  acting  well." 

He  looked  back  perplexed,  but  in  a 
moment  he  understood.  She  evidently 
felt  that  she  ought  to  tell  him  outright 
that  she  was  going  to  marry  Wynford. 

"In  treating  you  as  I  did,"  she  finished, 
"in  judging  you — " 

"You  were  hasty,"  he  said,  "but  I  can 
understand." 

She  shook  her  head.  "You  can't  un- 
derstand if  you  think  that  there  was  only 
a  flower  in  the  locket." 

"Perhaps  I  have  guessed  already  that 
there  was  a  picture,"  he  said— "a  picture 
that  was  not  for  my  eyes." 

She  looked  at  him  gravely.    "No,"  she 


n8      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

said,  "you  have  n't  guessed.  I  don't  think 
you  've  guessed ;  and  when  I  think  how  I 
misjudged  you,  how  harsh  I  was,  I  want 
you  to  see  it.  It  is  almost  your  right  to 
see  it."  Her  hand  went  to  her  throat,  but 
he  shook  his  head. 

"It  pleases  me,"  he  said,  "to  be  made  a 
confidant,  but  I  take  the  will  for  the 
deed.  If  there  is  anything  more  you 
might  wish  that  I  should  say,  imagine 
that  I  have  said  it — congratulations,  good 
wishes,  and  that  sort  of  thing;  you  under- 
stand." 

He  had  reached  the  door,  but  again 
she  called  him  back.  She  paused,  with 
her  hand  on  the  piano,  and  struggled 
for  her  words.  "Carry,"  she  said,  "once 
I  told  you  that  it  was  all  off,  that  I  never 
could  marry  you — that  I  should  never 
marry  any  one.  You  're  glad  now,  are  n't 
you  ?  You  see  it  is  best  ?" 

"Would  it  make  you  happier  if  I  said 
so?"  he  replied. 

"I  want  to  know  the  truth,"  she  said. 

"I  am  afraid  the  truth  would  only  hurt 
you,"  he  answered. 


WITH  A  LOCKET  119 

"I  want  the  truth,"  she  said  again. 

"It  is  soon  told,"  he  said;  "there  is 
nothing  new  to  tell." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  whispered. 

"Is  n't  it  clear?"  he  answered.  "Do 
you  want  to  bring  up  the  past  ?" 

"You  love  me?"  she  asked.  He  could 
hardly  hear,  her  voice  trembled  so. 

He  made  no  answer,  but  bowed  his 
head. 

When  she  saw,  she  turned,  and,  throw- 
ing her  arms  along  the  piano,  hid  her  face, 
and  in  a  moment  he  heard  her  crying 
softly. 

He  paused  uncertainly,  then  he  went  to 
her.  "Sally,"  he  said. 

She  lifted  her  head.  She  was  crying 
still,  but  with  a  great  light  of  happiness  in 
her  face.  "There  is  no  Captain  Wyn- 
ford,"  she  sobbed.  "If  you  had  looked  in 
the  locket — "  A  laugh  flashed  in  her  eyes. 

And  then  he  understood, 

THEY  were  standing  close  together  in 
the  mullioned  window  where  three  hun- 
dred years  before  a  man  standing  on  the 


120      MR.  CARTERET'S  ADVENTURE 

lawn  outside  had  scrawled  with  a  diamond 
on  one  of  the  little  panes : 

If  woman  seen  thro'  crystal  did  appere 
One  half  so  loving  as  her  face  is  fair 

And  a  woman  standing  inside  had  writ- 
ten the  answering  lines : 

Were  woman  seen  thro',  as  the  crystal 

pane, 
Then  some  might  ask,  nor  long  time  ask 

in 

The  rhyme  word  was  indicated  by  a 
dash,  but  neither  the  tracings  of  those 
dead  hands,  nor  the  ancient  lawns,  nor  the 
oaks  that  had  been  witness,  did  these  two 
see.  When  many  things  had  been  said, 
she  opened  the  locket. 

"You  must  look  now." 

"I  will,"  he  said.  As  he  looked,  his 
eyes  grew  misty.  "Both  of  us  ?"  he  whis- 
pered. 

"Both  of  you !"  she  answered.  And  it 
was  so,  for  in  the  corner  of  the  picture 
was  Penwiper. 


THE  CASE  OF 
THE  EVANSTONS 


IV 

THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 


CARTERET  went  into  the 
club  one  June  afternoon  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  finding  Braybrooke  there, 
and  selling  him  a  horse.  Braybrooke  was 
not  in  the  club,  but  Mr.  Carteret  came 
upon  three  men  sitting  in  the  bow-window. 
They  had  their  backs  to  the  avenue,  and 
were  apparently  absorbed  in  discussion. 
As  he  approached,  Van  Cortlandt,  who 
was  speaking,  glanced  up  and  stopped.  At 
the  same  moment  Mr.  Carteret  drew  back. 
They  were  not  men  with  whom  he  cared 
to  assume  the  familiarity  of  intrusion. 

"Sit  down,  Carty,"  said  Shaw.  Mr. 
Carteret  hesitated,  and  Shaw  rose  and 
drew  another  chair  into  the  circle.  "Go 
on  with  the  story,"  he  said  to  Van  Cort- 
landt. 

"I  dare  say  Carty  has  heard  it,"  ob- 

133 


124    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

served  Van  Cortlandt,  apologetically,  as 
he  was  about  to  resume  his  narrative; 
"he  5s  a  pal  of  Ned's." 

Mr.  Carteret  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"I  was  telling  them  about  the  Evan- 
ston  affair,"  said  Van  Cortlandt. 

Mr.  Carteret  opened  his  cigarette-case 
and  took  out  a  cigarette.  "What  is  the 
Evanston  affair?"  he  said  shortly.  He 
was  more  interested  than  he  cared  to 
show. 

"They  've  caught  Ned  Palfrey,"  said 
Crowninshield,  with  a  laugh.  Mr.  Car- 
teret turned  to  Van  Cortlandt.  "What 
do  you  mean  ?"  he  said. 

"It  's  a  fact,"  said  Van  Cortlandt. 
"It  seems  that  last  Thursday  Frank  Evan- 
ston came  home  unexpectedly,  and  found 
Ned  there.  Exactly  what  happened  no 
one  knows,  but  the  story  is  that  the  gar- 
dener and  a  footman  threw  Neddie  out  of 
the  house  and  into  the  fountain."  Mr. 
Carteret  threw  away  his  cigarette,  and 
straightened  himself  in  his  chair. 

"And  they  say,"  observed  Crownin- 
shield, "that  his  last  words  were,  'Come 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    125 

on  in,  Frank;  the  water  's  fine.' '  There 
was  a  general  laugh  in  which  Mr.  Car- 
teret  did  not  join. 

"Is  that  all?"  he  asked. 

"That  's  the  cream  of  it,"  replied  Van 
Cortlandt.  "The  rest  is  purely  conven- 
tional—separation and  divorce  proceed- 
ings." 

"That  's  an  interesting  story,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret,  calmly,  "but  untrue." 

"How  do  you  know?"  said  Shaw. 

"Because,"  he  answered,  "on  Thurs- 
day, Ned  Palfrey  was  at  my  house  in  the 
country." 

"Dates  are  immaterial,"  said  Crown- 
inshield.  "Very  likely  it  was  Wednesday 
or  Friday." 

"I  say,"  said  Van  Cortlandt,  "I  '11  bet 
you  even,  Crowny,  it  was  Friday  as 
against  Wednesday." 

"I  '11  take  that,"  said  Crowninshield ; 
"but  how  shall  we  settle  it?" 

"Leave  it  to  Ned,"  said  Van  Cortlandt. 
There  was  another  laugh. 

"In  the  second  place,"  continued  Mr. 
Carteret,  disregarding  the  interruption, 


126    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

"I  know  for  a  fact  that  last  evening  the 
Evanstons  were  still  living  together  in 
the  country." 

"Well,  I  know  there  is  going  to  be  a 
divorce,"  said  Van  Cortlandt.  "I  got 
that  from  a  member  of  Emerson  Whit- 
tlesea's  firm,  and  he  's  Evanston's  law- 
yer." 

"A  lawyer  who  would  tell  a  thing  like 
that  ought  to  be  disbarred,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret.  "If  I  could  find  out  who  it  is,  I 
should  try  to  have  it  done." 

"Why?"  said  Crowninshield. 

"Because  the  three  people  concerned  in 
the  story  that  he  has  furnished  a  founda- 
tion for,  are  my  friends." 

"So  they  are  his,"  said  Van  Cortlandt ; 
"so  they  are  ours.  That  's  what  makes  it 
interesting.  What  's  the  use  of  friends," 
he  went  on,  "if  you  can't  enjoy  their 
domestic  difficulties?" 

Mr.  Carteret  rose.  "That  is  a  matter  of 
opinion,"  he  said  stiffly. 

"Well,"  retorted  Van  Cortlandt, 
"there  's  nothing  one  can  do  about  it." 

"Have  you  ever  tried?"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    127 

"Have  you  ?"  said  Van  Cortlandt. 

Mr.  Carteret  made  no  reply.  He  turned 
on  his  heel  and  left  the  room.  Half- 
suppressed  laughter  followed  him  into 
the  hall,  and  he  went  on  to  the  billiard 
room  to  "cool  out,"  as  he  expressed  it. 
He  was  very  angry.  He  paced  several 
times  to  and  fro  beside  the  pool-table; 
then,  with  a  sudden  determination,  he 
walked  rapidly  out  of  the  club  and  got 
into  his  motor. 

"Go  to  Mr.  Palfrey's,"  he  said  to  the 
chauffeur.  "Hurry."  A  few  blocks  up 
the  avenue  the  car  drew  up  to  the  curb, 
and  he  got  out.  He  crossed  the  side- 
walk, and  disappeared  into  the  great 
apartment  house  where  Palfrey  had  his 
rooms.  Half  an  hour  later  he  came  out 
and  hurriedly  entered  the  car.  He  mo- 
tioned to  the  chauffeur  to  change  places. 
"I  '11  drive,"  he  said.  "How  is  your 
gasolene  ?" 

"The  tank  's  full,  sir,"  said  the  man. 

"Good,"  he  answered. 

He  started  the  car,  and  began  to  thread 
his  way  up  the  avenue.  At  5Qth  street 


128    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

the  clock  on  the  dash-board  said  ten  min- 
utes to  six. 

He  turned  into  the  Park  and  ran 
through  the  avenues  at  a  speed  which 
made  arrest  imminent,  yet  he  escaped. 
The  Park  was  a  miracle  of  flowering 
things,  of  elms  feathering  into  leaf,  of 
blossom  fragrances,  of  robins  at  their  sun- 
set singing;  but  Mr.  Carteret  was  unaware 
of  it  all.  At  ten  minutes  past  six  he  was 
in  the  open  country.  Here  he  opened  the 
throttle  and  advanced  the  spark.  He 
called  upon  the  great  machine  for  speed, 
and  the  great  machine  lifted  its  shrill  roar 
and  gave  generously.  The  clock  and  the 
trembling  finger  of  the  speedometer 
showed  that  many  of  the  miles  and  min- 
utes passed  together.  At  ten  minutes  of 
seven  he  turned  into  the  gateway  of  a 
great  country-place,  and  a  few  moments 
later  came  upon  its  master  on  the  west 
terrace.  Evanston  greeted  him  pleasantly, 
but  was  evidently  surprised  to  see  him. 

"Did  you  motor  down  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carteret;  "sixty  min- 
utes from  59th  street." 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    129 

Evanston  gave  a  low  exclamation. 

"It  was  n't  difficult,"  said  Mr.  Carteret, 
"the  road  's  very  good."  An  awkward 
silence  followed,  which  both  men  felt. 

"Lovely  view,"  said  Mr.  Carteret, 
looking  off  across  the  lake  toward  the 
sunset.  Then  there  was  another  silence. 

Evanston  broke  it.  "Have  you  still  got 
that  horse  that  you  wanted  to  sell  me?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Carteret;  "but 
I  'm  not  trading  horses  this  afternoon." 
His  voice  changed  and  he  looked  at  Evan- 
ston. 

"Frank,"  he  said,  "can  you  keep  your 
temper  ?" 

"I.'ve  had  some  practice,"  said  Evan- 
ston. "Why?" 

"Because,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "I  'm 
going  to  irritate  you.  I  'm  going  to  butt 
in.  I  'm  going  to  mix  up  in  a  matter  that 
is  none  of  my  business.  If  you  want  to 
knock  me  down,  I  sha'n't  like  it,  but  I 
sha'n't  resent  it." 

Evanston  looked  at  him  suspiciously. 
""What  do  you  mean?"  he  said. 

"From  what  I  've  heard,"  said  Mr.  Car- 


130    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

teret,  "your  private  affairs  are  in  a 
tangle." 

"So  you  've  heard?"  said  Evanston. 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  a  good  many  things 
which  are  probably  not  so.  I  want  to 
know  the  facts." 

Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  Evanston 
made  no  show  of  resentment.  "The  facts 
are  simple,"  he  said.  "I  'm  tired  of  this 
thing,  and  I  'm  going  to  put  an  end  to  it." 

"I  've  heard  that,"  said  Mr.  Carteret; 
"but  if  you  don't  mind  telling  me,  I  'd 
like  to  know  why.  I  like  you,  Frank,"  he 
added;  "I  like  your  wife;  I  like  your 
children— I  don't  want  to  see  you  bust  up." 

"You  are  very  good,  Carty,"  said 
Evanston,  "but  nothing  can  be  done 
about  it.  It  's  a  long  story,  with  rights 
and  wrongs  on  both  sides;  but  at  the  be- 
ginning it  was  my  fault,  and  I  am  ready 
to  pay  for  it." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'your  fault  at 
the  beginning'  ?"  asked  Mr.  Carteret. 

"I  married  her,"  said  Evanston. 

"Well,  did  n't  you  want  to?"  asked 
Mr.  Carteret. 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    131 

"I  wanted  to  too  much,"  said  Evan- 
ston;  "that  was  the  trouble." 

Mr.  jCarteret  looked  puzzled.  "I  don't 
think  I  understand,"  he  said.  From  his 
somewhat  objective  point  of  view  the 
more  complex  personality  of  Evanston 
was  baffling. 

"It  was  this  way,  Carty,"  Evanston 
went  on.  "Her  mother — you  know  her 
mother?" 

Mr.  Carteret  nodded.  "Always  for  the 
stuff,"  he  observed. 

"Exactly,"  said  Evanston.  "Well,  to 
put  it  bluntly,  she  made  the  match." 

"But  I  thought  you  were  rather  keen 
about  her." 

"So  I  was,"  said  Evanston;  "but 
Edith  was  n't  keen  about  me.  The 
mother  forced  her  into  it,  and  I  was  fool- 
ish enough  to  believe  that  if  she  married 
me,  she  would  care  for  me.  The  fact 
was,"  he  added,  "I  was  walking  on  air, 
with  my  head  in  a  dream." 

"I  understand,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Well,  we  were  married,"  continued 
Evanston,  "and  then  suddenly  out  of  a 


blue  sky  came  the  panic  and  the  T.  &  B. 
failure,  and  I  was  flat  broke  and  a  de- 
faulter." 

"Defaulter !"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Defaulter  as  to  my  side  of  the  matri- 
monial bargain,  which  was  to  provide  the 
establishment,"  said  Evanston.  "The 
realization  of  this  fact  was  sudden  and 
painful." 

"Sudden?  How  do  you  mean  sud- 
den?" asked  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Something  happened,"  said  Evan- 
ston, "that  opened  my  eyes." 

"Do  you  mean  the  loss  of  your 
money  ?" 

"No,"  said  Evanston,  "you  know  the 
money  end  of  it  came  out  all  right  My 
uncle  died,  and  I  inherited  more  than  I 
had  lost;  but  I  had  already  learned  how 
much  and  how  little  money  could  do. 
And  so  things  drifted  along,  and  now  the 
only  course  open  seems  to  be  to  call  it  all 
off."  Evanston  was  silent. 

"Is  that  all  ?"  asked  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other. 

"Frank,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "you  have 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    133 

told  me  everything  but  the  facts.  Don't 
interrupt,"  he  went  on,  as  Evanston  made 
a  gesture  of  protest.  "The  essence  of 
the  matter  is  this — you  think  that  your 
wife  is  in  love  with  Ned  Palfrey;  you 
believe  Palfrey  in  love  with  her,  and  you 
are  jealous  of  him." 

"I  don't  see  the  need  of  going  into 
that,"  said  Evanston.  "There  is  no 
scandal.  I  trust  my  wife  and  I  trust 
Palfrey." 

"The  need  of  going  into  it,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret,  "is  to  set  you  right  on  two  points. 
First,  your  wife  does  n't  care  for  Palfrey 
except  as  a  friend,  and  if  I  am  any  judge 
of  what  is  going  on  in  a  woman's  mind, 
she  cares  more  about  you  than  you  will 
allow  her  to  show  you.  Secondly,  except 
as  a  friend,  Palfrey  does  n't  care  for  your 
wife."  . 

"Carty,"  said  Evanston,  "you  are  wast- 
ing your  time  and  mine.  I  know  that  a 
man  is  foolish  to  be  jealous  of  any  other 
man,  and  I  know  that  Ned  Palfrey  is 
all  right.  I  'm  sorry  for  Palfrey.  He 
has  as  much  cause  for  resentment  against 


134    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

me  as  I  have  against  him.  If  it  had  n't 
been  for  me  he  would  have  married  her. 
If  he  marries  her  later  on,  I  shall  have  no 
feeling  about  it.  But  I  can't  stand  the 
situation  as  it  is,  and  I  don't  care  to  have 
you  tell  me  there  is  nothing  in  it." 

"You  have  no  proof,"  said  Carteret, 
"that  there  is  anything  in  it." 

"No  proof?"  said  Evanston.  He 
smiled  bitterly.  "Only  the  proof  of  my 
eyes." 

Carteret  threw  away  his  cigarette. 
"The  proof  of  your  eyes !"  he  said. 

Evanston  nodded.  "Perhaps  you  re- 
member," he  went  on,  "that  just  after 
the  crash  I  disappeared  for  a  week." 

"Yes,"  said  Carteret;  "it  was  two 
years  ago,  just  before  Christmas." 

"People  said  that  I  was  hiding  from 
my  creditors;  that  I  had  gone  to  Aus- 
tralia; and  some  that  I  had  killed  my- 
self." 

"That  was  what  Edith  believed,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret.  "It  nearly  killed  her." 

Evanston  laughed  scornfully.  "Women 
don't  die  of  such  things,"  he  said. 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    135 

"Well,  to  go  on,  it  happened  that  the 
day  I  disappeared,  Palfrey  called  upon 
my  wife.  We  were  at  the  house  in  7oth 
street  then."  He  paused  uneasily,  and 
Mr.  Carteret  began  to  wonder.  "I  came 
up-town  late  in  the  afternoon,"  he  contin- 
ued, "and  let  myself  in  with  a  key.  I 
heard  voices  in  the  drawing-room  and 
went  down  the  hall.  The  curtains  in 
the  drawing-room  doorway  had  fallen 
apart,  and  I  looked  in.  Palfrey  was 
there.  They  were  standing  by  the  fire- 
place and  had  dropped  their  voices  so 
that  I  could  n't  make  out  what  they 
were  saying,  but  I  saw  him  take  a  step 
toward  her,  and  then  he  took  her  hand." 
Evanston  stopped.  "And  then,"  he 
added,  "the  sawdust  dropped  out  of 
my  doll." 

"What  happened?"  asked  Mr.  Carteret. 

"He  kissed  her,"  said  Evanston. 

Mr.  Carteret  started  inwardly.  Then  an 
illumination  came  to  him.  "No,"  he 
said ;  "she  kissed  him." 

"As  a  gentleman,"  said  Evanston,  "I 
would  rather  put  it  the  other  way." 

9 


136    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

"As  a  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Carteret, 
"you  must  put  it  the  way  it  was." 

"Does  it  make  any  difference?"  asked 
Evanston. 

"The  difference  between  right  and 
wrong,"  said  Mr.  Carteret.  "Listen  to 
me.  You  knew,  I  suppose,  that  Palfrey 
wanted  to  marry  Edith's  sister  Louise." 

A  look  of  wonder  came  into  Evan- 
ston's  face.  "No,"  he  said. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "he  did.  I 
know  it,  and  when  you  saw  him  at  their 
house  and  thought  he  was  after  Edithr 
you  were  barking  up  the  wrong  tree." 

Evanston  had  risen,  and  was  listening 
apprehensively.  His  face  had  grown 
white. 

"What  has  this  to  do  with  the  case?" 
he  demanded. 

"The  afternoon  that  you  speak  of,"  Mr. 
Carteret  went  on,  "Louise  told  Palfrey 
that  she  was  going  to  marry  Witherbee. 
With  that  piece  of  news  he  went  to  your 
house,  to  the  woman  who  had  been  his 
friend  and  confidante — your  wife.  He  was 
a  good  deal  cut  up,  and  when  he  said 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    137 

good-by— you  know  he  sailed  for  Europe 
the  next  day — I  presume  she  was  sorry 
for  him,  and,  being  a  generous  woman, 
an  impulsive  woman,  she  showed  her  sym- 
pathy; she  kissed  him  as  you  would  kiss 
a  broken-hearted  child." 

Evanston  made  a  strange  gesture,  as  if 
to  put  away  by  a  physical  action  the 
thoughts  that  were  forcing  themselves 
into  his  mind.  "No,"  he  said  huskily; 
"it  is  n't  true,  it  can't  be  true." 

"Do  you  think  I  would  come  to  you 
with  a  lie?"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"But  you  were  n't  there,"  said  Evan- 
stori.  "How  do  you  know?" 

"Neither  were  you,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
"Why  did  n't  you  go  in  like  a  man  and 
find  out  your  mistake  ?" 

For  a  time  Evanston  made  no  answer. 
Then  his  voice  sank  to  a  whisper.  "I 
was  afraid,"  he  said.  "If  I  had  gone  in 
I  was  out  of  my  head."  He  dropped 
into  his  chair  again,  and  turned  his  face 
away.  His  body  shook  convulsively,  but 
he  made  no  sound.  Carteret  stepped 
awkwardly  to  the  terrace  balustrade  and 


138    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

stood  gazing  at  the  sunset.  The  silence 
lasted  for  several  minutes.  Then  Evan- 
ston  spoke;  his  voice  was  still  uncertain. 
He  rose  and  walked  unsteadily  toward 
the  balustrade. 

"Carty,"  he  said,  "I  believe  you. 
What  shall  I  do?  It  's  awful,"  he  mut- 
tered ;  "it 's  awful." 

"It  's  awfully  lucky,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret,  "that  we  have  straightened  things 
out." 

Evanston  shook  his  head  wearily. 
"But  we  have  n't,"  he  said;  "we  can't. 
It 's  too  late." 

"Look  here,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  impa- 
tiently, "don't  be  an  ass." 

"But  don't  you  understand,"  said  Evan- 
ston. "If  what  you  say  is  true, — and  I 
believe  you, — then  I  have  acted — "  he 
stopped  and  thought  for  the  right  words, 
but  they  did  not  come.  "I  left  her  that 
afternoon  without  a  word.  A  week  later, 
without  explanation,  I  came  back,  and  for 
two  years  I  have  treated  her — God  knows 
how  I  have  treated  her!"  he  murmured. 
"If  she  did  care  for  me  at  the  first,"  he 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    139 

went  on,  "if  she  cared  for  me  after  the 
failure,  the  end  of  it  must  have  come 
when  I  went  away  and  came  back  as  I  did. 
And  now  to  put  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
her  freedom,  to  try  to  buy  her  again, 
would  be  the  act  of  a  blackguard." 

"But  suppose  she  loves  you?"  said 
Mr.  Carteret. 

"That,"  said  Evanston,  "is  impossible." 

"It  ought  to  be  impossible,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret.  "If  she  poisoned  you  any  jury 
would  acquit  her ;  but,  fortunately  for  us, 
women  are  not  logical." 

"No,"  said  Evanston  again;  "it  is 
impossible." 

"That  is  your  view  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. "Would  anything  convince  you 
that  you  are  wrong?" 

Evanston  was  silent  a  moment.  Then 
he  smiled  bitterly.  "If  the  thoughts  she 
had  about  me  in  those  days,"  he  began, — 
"in  those  days  after  I  had  come  home, — 
if  they  could  come  back  like  ghosts,  and 
should  tell  me  that  all  that  time  she  cared 
for  me,  in  spite  of  what  I  was  and  did — " 
He  paused. 


140    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

"Then  of  course  it  is  impossible,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret,  dryly. 

He  turned  away  toward  the  sunset 
again  and  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  a 
quarter  past  seven.  In  the  last  twenty- 
five  minutes  his  hopes  had  flown  high  and 
fallen  dead.  Evanston's  point  of  view 
was  beyond  his  comprehension.  He  felt 
that  the  man  was  mad,  and  that  he  had 
come  upon  a  fool's  errand. 

He  turned  back  toward  Evanston.  "I 
must  be  going,"  he  said.  At  that  moment 
a  servant  came  from  the  house  and  ap- 
proached them. 

"Mr.  Whitehouse  is  on  the  telephone, 
sir,"  the  man  said  to  Evanston.  "He 
says  his  cook  has  been  taken  suddenly  ill, 
and  may  he  come  to  dine  to-night  and 
bring  Professor  Blake." 

Evanston  looked  helplessly  at  Mr.  Car- 
teret. "That  's  odd,"  he  said,  "is  n't 
it?" 

"He  evidently  has  n't  heard,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret. 

"Evidently,"  said  Evanston.  "But 
why  should  n't  he  come  ?"  he  added.  He 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    141 

turned  to  the  man.  "Tell  Mr.  White- 
house  that  Mrs.  Evanston  and  myself 
will  be  glad  to  have  him  and  Professor 
Blake."  The  man  bowed  and  went  back 
to  the  house. 

"It  's  better  that  way,"  continued 
Evanston.  "We  '11  have  a  party.  I 
don't  know  who  Blake  is;  but  Whittle- 
sea  's  coming  down,  and  you  '11  stay." 

"I  can't;  I  have  no  clothes,"  said  Mr. 
Carteret. 

"That  does  n't  matter,"  said  Evanston. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "I  must  go. 
I  'm  of  no  use  here."  . 

"Don't  say  that,"  said  Evanston.  He 
held  out  his  hand.  "Carty,  you  are  the 
only  human  being  that  understands  or 
wants  to  understand." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "I  '11  stay." 

It  was  nine  o'clock,  and  they  had  fin- 
ished dinner.  From  the  dining-room  the 
men  went  to  the  library  to  smoke,  and 
Whitehouse's  friend,  the  Professor,  be- 
gan to  talk.  He  was  an  Orientalist,  and 
had  recently  discovered  a  buried  city  on 
the  plateau  of  Iran.  Mr.  Carteret  was  not 


142    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

interested  in  buried  cities,  so  he  smoked 
and  occupied  himself  with  his  own 
thoughts.  From  the  distant  part  of  the 
house  came  the  music  of  a  piano.  He 
knew  that  it  was  Edith  playing  in  the 
drawing-room.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
it  would  be  pleasant  to  go  out  upon  the 
terrace  and  listen  to  the  music.  He  was 
meditating  the  execution  of  this  project 
when  he  saw  Whittlesea  slip  out ;  the  same 
idea  had  occurred  to  the  lawyer. 

Mr.  Carteret  watched  him  go  with  cha- 
grin, but  he  felt  that  it  would  be  rude 
for  him  to  follow,  so  he  sat  where  he 
was,  and  bore  up  under  the  buried  city. 
The  talk  went  on  until  suddenly  the  ca- 
thedral clock  in  the  hallway  began  to 
strike  in  muffled  arpeggios.  Whitehouse 
started  up  and  looked  at  his  watch. 

"It  's  half-past  nine,"  he  said  to  the 
Professor.  "If  you  really  must  take  the 
night  train,  we  ought  to  be  starting." 

"I  '11  ring,"  said  Evanston,  "and  have 
somebody  order  your  trap." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Whitehouse,  "I 
would  rather  order  it  myself;  I  want  to 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    143 

speak  to  my  man.  I  know  where  the 
stable  telephone  is."  He  went  out. 

"I  am  sorry  you  have  to  go,"  said 
Evanston  to  the  Professor. 

"So  am  I,"  the  Professor  replied. 
"This  has  been  a  most  delightful  even- 
ing." 

Just  then  Whitehouse  put  his  head  in 
the  door.  "The  stable  telephone  is  out 
of  order,"  he  said,  "I  '11  have  to  ask  you 
to  send  some  one,  after  all." 

"The  telephone  's  all  right,"  replied 
Evanston;  "the  trouble  is,  you  don't 
know  how  to  use  it."  He  rose,  and  join- 
ing Whitehouse,  left  the  room. 

As  he  went  out,  the  Professor  started 
to  rise,  but  something  held  him,  and  he 
sat  back  awkwardly.  His  sleeve-link  had 
caught  in  the  cord  of  the  cushion  on 
which  his  arm  had  been  resting.  He 
stooped  to  disentangle  it,  and  turning  the 
cushion  over,  his  eyes  rested  on  a  curious 
pattern  worked  in  gold.  He  gave  a  low 
exclamation  of  surprise,  and  carried  the 
cushion  into  the  lamplight. 

"Anything  the  matter?"  inquired  Mr. 


144    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

Carteret.  To  him  the  Professor  was 
rather  curious  than  human,  but  he  felt 
that  it  was  civil  to  show  an  interest  in  him. 

"There  's  a  verse,"  replied  the  Pro- 
fessor, "embroidered  in  Persian  charac- 
ters on  this  cushion.  It  's  the  work  of  a 
poet  little  known  in  Europe.  It  's  very 
extraordinary  to  find  it  here." 

"Really,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  suppress- 
ing a  yawn. 

"I  '11  make  you  a  translation  of  it," 
said  the  Professor. 

"I  should  be  pleased,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
teret. 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  the 
Professor  wrote  on  a  stray  sheet  of  paper, 
and  Mr.  Carteret  speculated  on  the  chance 
of  his  horse  Balloonist  in  the  Broadway 
steeplechase.  The  Professor  was  handing 
the  slip  of  paper  to  Mr.  Carteret  when 
Whitehouse  and  Evanston  came  hur- 
riedly into  the  room. 

"I  'm  afraid  you  '11  have  to  hurry," 
said  Whitehouse.  "We  have  very  little 
time." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Professor;  "but 
I  must  say  good-by  to  Mrs.  Evanston." 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    145 

He  nodded  a  good-night  to  Mr.  Carteret, 
and  went  out  of  the  room,  followed  by 
Evanston  and  Whitehouse. 

Mr.  Carteret  heard  the  music  stop  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  he  knew  that  the 
Professor  was  taking  his  leave.  He 
heard  it  begin  again,  and  he  knew  that 
the  guests  had  gone. 

"I  must  go  myself,"  he  thought. 
"Evanston  wants  to  talk  with  Whittle- 
sea." 

He  was  about  to  rise  when  he  glanced 
idly  at  the  sheet  of  paper  which  the  Pro- 
fessor had  given  him.  Mr.  Carteret  was 
not  fond  of  poetry.  He  considered  it  a 
branch  of  knowledge  which  concerned 
only  women  and  literary  persons.  But 
the  words  of  the  translation  that  he  held 
in  his  hand  he  read  a  first  time,  then  a 
second  time,  then  a  third  time. 

He  rose,  with  a  startled  sense  of  being 
on  the  brink  of  discovery,  and  then 
Evanston  came  in. 

"You  are  not  going,"  said  Evanston. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  vaguely. 
"Frank,"  he  went  on,  "do  you  know  any- 
thing about  that  sofa  pillow?" 


146    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

"What  sofa  pillow?"  asked  Evanston. 

Mr.  Carteret  took  the  cushion  with  the 
strange  embroidery,  and  held  it  in  the 
lamplight. 

"That?"  said  Evanston— "Edith  gave 
me  that." 

"When?"  asked  Mr.  Carteret. 

"It  was  a  Christmas  present,"  said 
Evanston — "the  Christmas  after  the 
failure." 

"After  you  came  back  ?" 

Evanston  nodded. 

"Do  you  know  where  she  got  it?" 
asked  Mr.  Carteret.  "I  mean  the  embroi- 
dery." 

"She  worked  it,"  said  Evanston. 

"But,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "it 's  Persian." 

"Very  likely  she  got  the  design  from 
her  uncle,"  said  Evanston.  "She  used 
to  be  a  great  deal  with  him.  You  know 
he  was  Wyeth,  the  Orientalist.  But  what 
is  all  this  about?  Why  are  you  inter- 
ested in  this  sofa  pillow?" 

Mr.  Carteret  gazed  searchingly  at 
Evanston.  "The  design,"  he  said,  "that 
is  embroidered  is  a  verse." 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    147 

Evanston  looked  at  him  uncompre- 
hendingly.  "Well,"  he  said,  "what  of 
it?" 

"I  want  you  to  ask  Edith  what  it  is," 
said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Why?"  said  Evanston. 

"Don't  ask  why.    Do  it." 

"What  use  can  there  be  in  calling  up 
the  past?"  said  Evanston.  "It  can  only 
be  painful  to  both  of  us." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Carteret;  "do 
it  as  a  favor  to  me." 

"I  think  you  will  have  to  excuse  me, 
Carty,"  said  Evanston,  somewhat  stiffly. 

Mr.  Carteret  moved  to  the  wall  and 
rang  the  bell.  Neither  man  spoke  until 
the  servant  appeared.  "Please  say  to 
Mrs.  Evanston,"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  "that 
Mr.  Evanston  and  Mr.  Carteret  wish 
very  much  that  she  would  come  to  the 
library."  As  the  man  left  the  room, 
Evanston  came  forward. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  demanded. 

"My  meaning  ought  to  be  plain,"  said 
Mr.  Carteret.  "I  intend  to  have  you  ask 
your  wife  what  is  on  that  cushion." 


148    THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

There  was  something  in  his  tone,  in  the 
look  in  his  eyes,  which  made  Evanston's 
protest  melt  away,  then  transfixed  him, 
then  made  him  whiten  and  tremble. 

Presently  they  heard  the  rustle  of  a 
woman's  dress  in  the  hallway.  "Do  you 
understand?"  said  Mr.  Carteret,  quickly. 
"You  must  ask  her.  You  must  force  it 
out  of  her.  If  she  refuses  to  tell  you, 
you  must  choke  it  out  of  her.  The  ghosts 
have  come  back!"  Then  he  hurriedly 
crossed  the  room  to  the  French  window 
that  opened  upon  the  terrace.  As  he 
reached  the  window,  Edith  stood  in  the 
doorway. 

"Do  you  want  me  ?"  she  asked. 

"Frank  wants  you,"  he  answered,  and 
stepped  out  blindly  into  the  night.  He 
groped  his  way  across  the  terrace,  and 
from  the  terrace  went  on  to  the  lawn. 
Overhead  the  stars  looked  down  and 
studded  the  lake  with  innumerable  lights. 
The  night  insects  were  singing.  The 
fireflies  glimmered  in  the  shrubbery.  The 
perfume  from  the  syringa  thicket  was 
heavy  on  the  still  air.  Ordinarily  these 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    149 

things  did  not  appeal  strongly  to  Mr. 
Carteret;  but  to-night  they  thrilled  him. 
A  few  steps  across  the  grass  and  he 
stopped  and  looked  back.  The  house  was 
silent.  From  the  library  windows  the 
lamplight  streamed  out  upon  the  terrace 
lawn.  He  turned  away  again  and  stood 
listening  to  the  night  things — the  meas- 
ured chorus  of  the  frogs  in  the  distant 
marsh,  the  whippoorwill  that  was  calling 
in  the  darkness  on  the  point.  Then  he 
resumed  his  progress  across  the  lawns. 
Suddenly  he  came  upon  a  figure  in  the 
darkness,  and  started. 

"Has  that  fellow  gone?"  It  was 
Whittlesea's  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 

"Then  I  must  go  back,"  said  the  law- 
yer. "Carteret,"  he  went  on,  "this  is 
wretched  business.  One  would  think 
that,  in  a  spot  like  this,  on  such  a  night, 
people  ought  to  be  happy." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Carteret. 
"Whittlesea,"  he  added,  "come  along 
but  don't  speak."  He  slipped  his  arm 
through  the  lawyer's  and  guided  their  steps 


ISO   THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS 

back  toward  the  terrace.  They  mounted 
it  and  stealthily  approached  the  library 
window.  From  the  darkness  they  could 
see  into  the  lighted  room,  and  not  be 
seen.  The  lawyer  gave  a  low  exclama- 
tion, and  drew  his  arm  away. 

Evanston  and  his  wife  were  sitting 
side  by  side  upon  the  couch.  His  arm  was 
about  her,  and  his  face  was  bent  close  to 
hers.  They  made  no  sound,  but  her  body 
shook  a  little,  and  trembled  as  if  she 
were  weeping  silently.  The  two  men 
parted  in  the  darkness,  Mr.  Carteret  re- 
treating back  across  the  terrace. 

The  fireflies  still  were  glimmering  in 
the  syringa-bushes,  the  night  voices  still 
were  chorusing,  but  Mr.  Carteret  was  un- 
aware of  them.  He  looked  vaguely  into 
the  heavens.  The  Milky  Way  glimmered 
from  horizon  to  horizon. 

'  Has  the  singing  nightingale  a  thought 
of  the  grainfields?'  " 

he  began  to  murmur. 

'  If  I  love  you,  oh,  my  beloved,  what 
are  poverty  or  riches? '  ' 


Evanston  and  his  wife  were  sitting  side  by  side  upon  the  couch 


THE  CASE  OF  THE  EVANSTONS    153 

It  was  the  verse  upon  the  cushion. 

He  stumbled  over  a  croquet  ball  in 
the  darkness  and  brought  his  eyes  down 
from  the  heavens. 

"Carteret,  you  're  an  ass,"  he  mut- 
tered. He  fumbled  for  his  pocket  hand- 
kerchief and  blew  his  nose.  Then  wan- 
dered on  across  the  lawn  till  he  came  to 
the  path  that  led  to  the  stables,  where  his 
motor  was  waiting.  Here  he  stopped  and 
looked  back  at  the  house.  The  lamplight 
was  still  streaming  from  the  library  win- 
dows, and  the  silence,  save  for  the  night 
things,  was  still  unbroken.  For  perhaps 
a  minute  he  stood  and  gazed;  then  he 
turned  and  went  down  the  pathway. 


10 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 


/CUTTING  had  been  taken  into  the 
V>  firm,  to  the  disgust  of  the  junior 
partners.  They  agreed  that  he  would 
never  amount  to  much,  being  given  over 
to  sports  and  unprofitable  ways  of  life. 

It  came  about  as  a  result  of  Cutting 
getting  himself  engaged.  There  was  no 
excuse  for  his  getting  himself  engaged. 
He  was  poor,  and  She  was  poor,  and  they 
both  had  rich  friends  and  expensive  ideas 
of  life.  But,  as  sometimes  happens  in 
such  cases,  Providence  was  fairly  shocked 
into  making  unexpected  arrangements. 

Cutting's  uncle  was  the  head  of  the 
firm.  Said  he :  "I  am  going  to  give  you 
six  months'  trial.  If  you  are  not  satis- 
factory you  will  have  to  get  out.  Good 
morning." 

The  elder  Cutting  was  a  great  lawyer. 

157 


158       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

As  a  man  he  was  a  gruff-spoken  old  per- 
son, a  worshiper  of  discipline,  and  con- 
tinuously ashamed  of  his  kind-hearted 
impulses.  For  forty-five  years  he  had 
reached  his  office  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  had  remained  there  till  six 
at  night.  After  that  he  went  to  the  club 
and  took  his  exercise  at  a  whist-table. 
He  considered  the  new  out-of-door  habits 
of  professional  men  a  scandal. 

The  junior  partners  had  grown  up  in 
this  school  of  thought,  and  as  a  matter  of 
course  they  disapproved  of  Mr.  Richard 
Cutting.  It  was  unfortunate  that  Mr. 
Cutting  cared  little  whether  they  disap- 
proved or  not.  It  was  also  imprudent; 
for  the  junior  partners  not  unnaturally 
had  it  in  mind  to  make  his  connection 
with  the  firm  end  with  his  six  months' 
probation. 

The  previous  week  a  crisis  had  been 
reached.  Cutting  was  away  two  entire 
days  for  a  Long  Island  golf  tournament. 
The  junior  partners  conferred  with  the 
senior  partner,  and  there  was  a  very  com- 
plete unpleasantness. 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE       159 

"I  shall  be  forced  to  terminate  our  ar- 
rangement unless  I  hear  better  reports  of 
you  from  my  associates,"  said  the  elder 
Cutting,  in  conclusion.  He  believed  it  his 
duty  to  say  this;  he  was  also  honestly 
irritated. 

The  junior  partners  were  gratified ;  they 
considered  that  they  had  settled  the 
younger  Cutting. 

IT  was  a  muggy  September  morning,  and 
the  office  force  was  hot  and  irritable. 
Something  unusual  and  disturbing  was 
in  the  air.  The  junior  partners  were 
consulting  anxiously  in  the  big  general 
room  where  most  of  the  clerks  worked, 
and  where  the  younger  Cutting  had  his 
desk.  The  younger  Cutting  had  not  yet 
appeared.  He  came  in  as  the  clock  was 
pointing  to  twelve  minutes  past  ten.  The 
junior  partners  glanced  up  at  the  clock, 
and  went  on  again  in  animated  under- 
tones. 

Cutting  opened  his  desk,  sat  down,  and 
unfolded  his  newspaper.  He  was  a  beau- 
tiful, clean-looking  youth  with  an  air  of 


160       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

calm  and  deliberation.  He  regarded  the 
junior  partners  with  composure,  and  be- 
gan to  read. 

"No,"  Mr.  Bruce  was  saying;  "it  is  too 
late  to  do  anything  about  it  now.  The 
case  is  on  to-day's  calendar,  and  will  be 
called  the  first  thing  after  lunch.  Our 
witnesses  have  n't  been  notified  or  sub- 
poenaed, and  the  law  has  n't  been  looked 
up." 

Smith  shook  his  head  sourly.  "The  old 
man  is  getting  more  absent-minded  every 
year,"  he  said.  "We  can't  trust  him  to 
look  after  his  business  any  longer.  The 
managing  clerk  gave  him  a  week's  notice, 
and  told  him  about  it  again  yesterday. 
You  think  there  is  no  chance  of  getting 
more  time?" 

Bruce  looked  at  his  colleague  with  con- 
tempt. "You  might,"  he  said  sarcas- 
tically ;  "I  can't." 

"Oh,  I  '11  take  your  word  for  it,"  said 
Smith.  "I  don't  want  to  tackle  Hemin- 
way." 

Bruce  laughed  dryly.  "The  case  has 
been  put  over  for  us  I  don't  know  how 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE        161 

many  times  already,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
blame  Heminway.  He  gave  us  ample 
notice  that  he  could  n't  do  it  again." 

"That  's  true,"  said  Smith. 

Reed  vs.  Hawkins,  the  case  in  question, 
was  a  litigation  of  small  financial  impor- 
tance, about  which  the  senior  Cutting  had 
formed  a  novel  and  ingenious  theory  of 
defense.  Instead  of  turning  it  over  to  the 
younger  men,  he  kept  it  as  a  legal  recrea- 
tion. But  he  never  got  to  it.  It  was  his 
Carcassonne. 

The  day  of  trial  would  come,  and  he 
would  smile  blandly,  and  remark :  "True ! 
That  has  slipped  my  mind  completely. 
Bruce,  kindly  send  over  to  Heminway  and 
ask  him  to  put  it  over  the  term.  I  want 
to  try  that  case  myself.  A  very  interesting- 
point  of  law,  Bruce,  very  interesting." 

The  last  time  this  had  happened,  the 
great  Mr.  Heminway  observed  that  pro- 
fessional etiquette  had  been  overtaxed, 
and  that  the  Reed  case  must  go  on.  Peo- 
ple who  knew  Mr.  Heminway  did  not 
waste  their  breath  urging  him  to  change 
his  mind. 


162       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

Messrs.  Bruce  and  Smith  considered 
the  situation  for  a  time  in  silence. 

"Well,"  said  Smith,  at  last,  "it  's  bad 
for  the  firm  to  let  a  judgment  be  taken 
against  us  by  default,  but  I  don't  see  any- 
thing else  to  do." 

At  this  moment  the  elder  Cutting 
emerged  from  his  private  office  with  his 
hat  on.  Obviously  he  was  in  a  hurry,  but 
he  paused  as  he  came  through. 

"Have  you  attended  to  that  Reed  mat- 
ter ?"  he  asked. 

"There  's  nothing  to  do  but  let  it  go  by 
default,"  said  Bruce. 

Mr.  Cutting  stopped.  "Get  more 
time !"  he  said  sharply. 

"I  can't,"  said  Bruce.  "Heminway  has 
put  his  foot  down.  No  one  can  make  him 
change  his  mind  now." 

"Stuff!"  said  Mr.  Cutting.  "Dick,  go 
over  and  tell  Heminway  I  want  that  Reed 
case  put  over  the  term."  And  he  went 
out. 

Cutting  finished  the  Gravesend  races, 
laid  the  paper  on  his  desk,  scribbled  a 
stipulation,  and  leisurely  departed. 

As  the  door  closed,  the  junior  partners 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE        163 

looked  at  each  other  and  smiled.  Then 
said  Smith,  "I  wish  I  could  be  there  and 
see  it." 

Bruce  chuckled.  He  could  imagine  the 
scene  tolerably  well.  "It  will  do  him  a  lot 
of  good,"  he  said.  Then  he  added :  "Don't 
you  think  I  had  better  write  personally  to 
Hawkins  and  explain  matters  ?  Of  course 
we  shall  have  to  pay  the  costs." 

"Yes,"  said  Smith ;  "it  's  better  to  ex- 
plain at  once.  It  's  a  piece  of  bad  busi- 
ness." 

THE  younger  Cutting  announced  himself 
as  Mr.  Cutting,  of  Cutting,  Bruce  & 
Smith.  That  was  a  name  which  carried 
weight,  and  the  office  boy  jumped  up  and 
looked  at  him  curiously,  for  he  took  him 
for  the  Mr.  Cutting.  Then  he  led  him 
down  a  private  passage  into  the  inner  and 
holy  place  of  the  great  Mr.  Heminway. 

"He  '11  be  back  in  a  moment,  sir,"  said 
the  boy.  "He  's  stepped  into  Mr.  Anson's 
office."  Mr.  Anson  was  the  junior  part- 
ner. 

The  door  into  the  waiting-room  was 
ajar  about  an  inch.  Cutting  peeped 


164       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

through  it,  and  saw  the  people  who 
wished  to  consult  the  great  lawyer.  He 
knew  some  of  them.  There  was  a  banker 
who  had  recently  thrown  Wall  street  into 
confusion  by  buying  two  railroads  in  one 
day.  There  were  others  equally  well 
known,  and  a  woman  whose  income  was 
a  theme  for  the  Sunday  newspapers. 
Cutting  watched  them  stewing  and  fidget- 
ing with  an  unlovely  satisfaction.  It  was 
unusual  for  such  persons  to  wait  for  any- 
body. 

He  discovered  that  by  walking  briskly 
toward  the  door  he  could  make  them 
start  and  eye  one  another  suspiciously, 
like  men  in  a  barber-shop  at  the  call  of 
"Next!"  When  this  entertainment 
palled,  he  played  with  his  hat.  Still  the 
great  man  did  not  come,  and  presently 
Cutting  took  a  tour  of  inspection  about 
the  room.  As  he  reached  the  lawyer's 
desk,  a  golf-club  caught  his  eye,  and  he 
stopped.  It  was  a  strangely  weighted, 
mammoth  mashie.  He  picked  it  up  and 
swung  it. 

"What   an   extraordinary   thing!"   he 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE       165 

muttered.  "It  weighs  a  pound."  He 
looked  for  the  maker's  name,  but  the  steel 
head  had  not  been  stamped. 

He  put  it  back  on  the  desk-top,  and  was 
turning  away  when  a  row  of  books  caught 
his  eye.  Half  concealed  by  a  pile  of 
papers  was  the  Badminton  golf -book,  an 
American  book  of  rules,  a  score-book,  a 
work  entitled  "Hints  for  Beginners,"  and 
a  pamphlet  of  "Golf  Don'ts."  In  the 
pigeonhole  above  lay  several  deeply 
scarred  balls.  Cutting  laughed. 

Just  then  he  heard  a  step,  and  turned 
hastily  around.  A  tall,  imposing  figure 
stood  in  the  private  doorway — a  man  of 
sixty,  with  a  grim,  clean-cut  face. 

"Well  ?"  said  Mr.  Heminway,  question- 
ingly.  He  had  a  blunt,  aggressive  manner 
that  made  Cutting  feel  as  if  he  were  about 
to  ask  a  great  favor. 

"Well?"  he  repeated.  "I  'm  very 
busy.  Please  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for 
you." 

"My  name  's  Cutting,"  the  young  man 
began — "Richard  Cutting,  of  Cutting, 
Bruce  &  Smith." 


166       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

The  great  lawyer's  face  softened,  and 
a  friendly  light  came  into  his  eyes. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  you,"  he  said.  '"I 
knew  your  father.  Your  uncle  and  I 
were  classmates.  That  was  a  long  time 
ago.  Are  you  the  'R.'  Cutting  who  won 
the  golf  tournament  down  on  Long  Island 
last  week  ?" 

Cutting  nodded. 

"Well,  well,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  a 
remarkable  young  man  you  must  be! 
You  see,"  he  added,  "I  've  taken  it  up 
in  a  mild  way  myself.  I  'm  afraid  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  get  really  inter- 
ested, but  it  's  an  excuse  for  keeping  out 
of  doors.  I  wish  I  had  begun  it  at  your 
age.  Every  afternoon  on  the  links  is  so 
much  health  stored  up  for  after  life. 
Remember  that !" 

"They  say  it  is  wholesome,"  said 
Cutting.  "I  gathered  that  you  played.  I 
saw  a  mashie  on  your  desk.  If  you  don't 
think  me  rude,  would  you  tell  me  where 
you  got  that  thing?  Or  is  it  some  sort  of 
advertisement  ?" 

Mr.  Heminway  looked  surprised. 
"Advertisement  ?"  he  repeated.  "Oh,  no. 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE        167 

That  's  an  idea  of  my  own.  You  see,  I 
need  a  heavy  club  to  get  distance.  I 
had  this  made.  It  weighs  fourteen 
ounces,"  he  went  on.  "What  do  you 
think  of  it?"  He  handed  the  thing  over, 
and  watched  Cutting's  face. 

"Do  you  want  my  honest  opinion?" 
said  Cutting. 

The  lawyer  nodded. 

"Then  give  it  away,  Mr.  Heminway," 
said  the  young  man,  respectfully,  "or  melt 
it  into  rails.  You  know  you  can't  play 
golf  with  that." 

The  lawyer  looked  puzzled.  "What  do 
you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  distance  is  n't  a  question  of 
weight !"  said  Cutting.  "It  's  a  fact  that 
you  get  the  best  distance  with  the  lightest 
clubs.  Most  professionals  use  ladies' 
cleeks." 

The  great  lawyer  looked  thoughtful. 
"Is  that  so  ?"  he  asked.  He  was  trying  to 
account  for  this  doctrine  out  of  his  expe- 
rience. "It  seems  absurd,"  he  added. 

"It  's  so,  though,"  said  Cutting.  He 
heard  the  banker  in  the  next  room  cough 
ominously.  He  took  up  his  hat. 


168       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

"Sit  down,  sit  down!"  exclaimed  the 
lawyer.  "I  want  to  find  out  about  this. 
I  've  been  doing  pretty  well,  except  at  the 
quarry-hole.  That  beats  me.  It  's  only 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  yards,  so 
that  I  'm  ashamed  to  use  a  driver;  and 
with  an  iron  I  go  in — I  go  in  too  often." 

"Everybody  goes  in  at  times,"  Cutting 
remarked  encouragingly;  "it  's  a  sort  of 
nerve  hazard,  you  know." 

"I  go  in  more  than  fat  times/  "  said  the 
lawyer.  "Last  Saturday  I  lost  sixteen 
balls  there— and  my  self-respect.  That  's 
too  much,  is  n't  it?" 

Cutting  looked  severely  away  at  the 
portrait  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall. 
"Yes,"  he  said;  "that  is  rather  often." 
The  idea  of  Mr.  Heminway  profanely 
filling  up  the  hill  quarry  with  golf-balls 
appealed  to  him.  "Still,"  he  went  on, 
"you  must  pardon  me,  but  I  don't  think 
it  could  have  been  because  your  clubs 
were  too  light." 

"Well,"  demanded  the  lawyer,  "what 
do  I  do  that  's  wrong?" 

Cutting    looked    him    over    critically. 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE       169 

"Of  course  I  've  never  seen  you  play,"  he 
said.  "I  should  judge,  though,  that  you 
hit  too  hard,  for  one  thing." 

"I  suppose  I  do,"  said  the  lawyer.  "I 
get  irritated.  It  appears  so  simple." 

"You  see,"  Cutting  continued,  "there 
are  three  things  that  you  ought  always  to 
keep  in  mind — " 

There  was  a  rap  on  the  door,  and  a 
clerk  put  his  head  in. 

"Mr.  Pendleton,"  he  began,  mention- 
ing the  banker's  name. 

The  lawyer  waved  him  out.  "I  'm 
busy,"  he  said;  "tell  him  I  '11  see  him 
directly.  Three  things?"  he  repeated, 
turning  to  Cutting.  "What  are  they?" 

"In  the  first  place,"  said  the  young  man, 
"when  you  swing,  you  must  keep  your 
arms  away,  and  you  must  n't  draw  back 
with  your  body.  Your  head  must  n't 
move  from  side  to  side." 

The  lawyer  looked  puzzled. 

"Fancy  a  rod  running  down  your  head 
and  spine  into  the  ground.  Now  that 
makes  your  neck  a  sort  of  pivot  to  turn 

on  when  you  swing.    It 's  like  this."    He 
11 


170       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

took  the  club  and  illustrated  his  idea.  "A 
good  way  to  practise,"  he  added,  "is  to 
stand  with  your  back  to  the  sun  and 
watch  your  shadow.  You  can  tell  then 
if  your  head  moves." 

"That  's  ingenious,"  observed  Mr. 
Heminway.  He  looked  about  the  room 
as  if  he  expected  to  find  the  sun  in  one 
of  the  corners.  The  awnings  were  down, 
and  only  a  subdued  light  filtered  in. 

"We  might  manage  with  an  electric 
light,"  he  suggested.  He  turned  on  his 
desk-lamp,  and  arranged  it  on  the  top  of 
the  desk  so  that  it  cast  its  glare  on  the 
floor.  Then  he  pulled  down  the  window- 
shade. 

"That 's  good,"  said  Cutting,  "only  it 's 
rather  weak.  Watch  the  shadow  of  my 
head."  He  began  swinging  with  the 
mashie. 

"I  see,"  said  Mr.  Heminway;  "that  's 
very  ingenious." 

"It  insures  an  even  swing,"  said  Cut- 
ting. "Now,  the  next  thing,"  he  went  on, 
"is  to  come  back  slowly  and  not  too  far. 
That  's  the  great  trick  about  iron  shots 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE        171 

especially.  You  can  hardly  come  back 
too  slowly  at  first.  All  the  golf-books 
will  tell  you  that.  It  's  put  very  well  in 
McPherson's  'Golf  Lessons/  ' 

Mr.  Heminway  looked  over  the  books 
on  his  desk.  "I  know  I  bought  McPher- 
son,"  he  said.  "I  think  I  lent  it  to  Anson. 
He  's  insane  about  the  game."  He  rang 
his  bell,  and  a  boy  appeared. 

"Tell  Mr.  Anson  that  I  want  Mc- 
Pherson's 'Golf  Lessons,'  "  he  said. 

"You  see,"  Cutting  went  on,  "you  get 
just  as  much  power  and  more  accuracy." 
He  illustrated  the  half-swing  several 
times.  "A  stroke  like  that,  well  carried 
through,  will  give  you  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  yards.  I  have  a  mashie  with 
which  I  sometimes  get  a  hundred  and 
fifty." 

The  lawyer  stretched  out  his  hand  for 
the  club.  "That  looks  simple,"  he  said; 
"let  me  try  it." 

Just  then  the  boy  came  back  with  the 
book  and  a  note.  The  note  was  from  the 
banker.  "He  told  me  to  be  sure  and  have 
you  read  it  right  off,"  said  the  boy. 


172       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Heminway.  He 
put  the  note  on  his  desk.  "Tell  him  that 
I  shall  be  at  liberty  in  a  minute." 

"I  really  ought  to  be  going,"  said  Cut- 
ting; "you  are  very  busy." 

"Sit  down,"  said  the  lawyer.  "I  want 
to  get  the  hang  of  this  swing.  That  was 
a  pretty  good  one,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 
"Did  I  do  anything  wrong?" 

"No,"  said  Cutting;  "only  you  came 
back  too  fast,  and  pumped  up  and  down 
instead  of  taking  it  smoothly;  and  you 
moved  your  head.  Keep  your  eyes  on 
your  shadow  as  if  it  were  the  golf -ball. 
That 's  better,"  he  added. 

The  next  instant  there  was  a  heavy 
chug,  and  the  fourteen-ounce  mashie  bit 
the  nap  off  a  patch  of  carpet. 

There  was  a  commotion  in  the  ante- 
room, but  Mr.  Heminway  seemed  not  to 
hear  it. 

"I  was  keeping  my  eyes  on  the  shadow 
that  time,"  he  said. 

Cutting  laughed  sympathetically.  "I 
know  it  's  pretty  hard.  You  have  to  re- 
member about  seven  different  things  at 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE        173 

once.  It 's  bad  for  the  carpet,  though.  You 
ought  to  have  a  door-mat.  A  door-mat  is 
a  good  thing  to  practise  on.  The  fiber 
gives  very  much  the  same  surface  as  turf." 

Mr.  Heminway  rang  his  bell  again. 
"Joseph,"  he  said,  "bring  the  door-mat 
here.  Tell  Mr.  Lansing  to  get  a  new  one 
for  the  outer  office,  and  leave  this  one." 
The  boy  came  back  with  the  mat.  The 
lawyer  kicked  it  into  position,  and  began 
again.  "This  is  better,"  he  observed. 
"I  '11  keep  it  here  till  I  learn." 

"That  's  the  only  way  to  do,"  said 
Cutting.  "Go  in  to  win.  If  you  prac- 
tise every  day  with  a  proper  club,  you  '11 
get  the  hang  of  it  in  a  month  or  two. 
But  you  must  use  a  light  club." 

Mr.  Heminway  stopped.  "A  month  or 
two  ?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Cutting.  "For  a 
large  and  rather  stout  man,  you  are  very 
active.  I  've  no  doubt,  if  you  give  your 
mind  to  it,  you  can  show  pretty  decent 
form  in  a  couple  of  months.  You  ought 
to  practise  with  your  coat  off,  though;  it 
binds  you." 


174       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

The  lawyer's  mouth  became  grim,  but 
he  took  off  his  coat.  There  was  an  office 
rule  against  shirt-sleeves. 

Here  the  office  boy  appeared  again,  and 
the  great  man  glared  at  him. 

"Mrs.  Carrington,"  said  Joseph.  "She 
says  she  's  got  to  see  you  about  important 
business,  and  she  can't  wait,  and  she  's 
going  to  sail  for  Europe  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

"Tell  Mrs.  Carrington,"  said  Mr.  Hem- 
inway,  "that  I  shall  see  her  as  soon  as  I 
am  at  leisure." 

The  boy  withdrew  hastily. 

The  lawyer  took  his  stance  by  the  door- 
mat again,  and  began  to  swing. 

Cutting  now  settled  himself  in  a  chair, 
and  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"That  's  better,"  he  said  presently, 
"much  better.  You  're  getting  the  trick." 

Mr.  Heminway  stopped  for  a  minute, 
and  straightened  up.  He  was  beginning 
to  puff.  "I  think  I  begin  to  see  how 
that 's  done,"  he  said.  "It 's  simple  when 
you  get  the  knack  of  it.  Cutting,  come 
down  and  stop  next  Sunday  with  me  in 


The  lawyer's  mouth  became  grim 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE       177 

the  country,  and  we  '11  go  over  the  course. 
I  sha'n't  be  able  to  give  you  much  of  a 
game,  but  there  are  some  fellows  down 
there  who  can;  and  I  want  you  to  show 
me  how  to  get  over  that  quarry-hole." 

"I  should  like  to  very  much,"  said  Cut- 
ting. He  meant  this.  The  girl  who  was 
going  to  be  Mrs.  Cutting  was  stopping  at 
the  other  Heminways',  who  had  the  place 
next. 

"The  last  time  I  played  that  quarry- 
hole,"  the  lawyer  went  on,  "I  took  twenty- 
seven  for  it.  And  it 's  all  in  that  swing," 
he  muttered.  He  crossed  over  to  the  rug, 
and  went  to  work  again.  "Criticize  me 
now,"  he  said.  "How  's  this?" 

Cutting  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"Oh,  you  must  carry  it  through  better," 
he  said.  "Let  your  left  arm  take  it  right 
out.  You  're  cramped.  You  're  gripping 
too  tightly.  Try  it  without  gripping  with 
your  right  hand  at  all.  You  '11  get  the 
idea  of  the  finish.  That  's  better.  Now 
right  through  with  it!  Oh,  Lord!"  he 
gasped. 

There  was  a  crash  of  glass,  then  a  great 


178       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

thump,  and  a  hubbub  of  screams  and  mas- 
culine exclamations.  The  heavy  club  had 
slipped  from  the  lawyer's  hand  and  had 
sailed  through  the  glass  door  into  the 
middle  of  the  waiting-room. 

The  great  lawyer  hurriedly  put  on  his 
coat.  "I  suppose  I  '11  have  to  straighten 
things  out  in  there,"  he  observed.  "But 
that  was  the  idea,  was  n't  it — right  out !" 
There  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

He  opened  the  door.  In  a  circle  around 
the  fourteen-ounce  mashie  stood  his 
clients. 

"Oh,  just  a  moment,"  broke  in  Cutting. 
"Can't  that  Reed  case  go  over  the  term? 
My  uncle  wanted  me  to  ask  for  a  post- 
ponement." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  lawyer.  "Tell  the 
managing  clerk  to  sign  the  stipulation. 
I  '11  meet  you  Saturday  at  the  three-ten 
train."  Then  he  put  on  his  cross-ques- 
tioning expression.  "Ladies  and  gentle- 
men," he  said  calmly,  "whom  have  I  the 
honor  of  seeing  first  ?" 

Who  that  person  was  Cutting  never 
knew,  because  he  at  once  slipped  out 


There  was  a  crash  of  glass 


THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE       181 

through  the  private  way,  and  got  his 
paper  signed.  Then  he  went  back  to  his 
office,  crossed  over  to  his  desk,  and  took 
up  the  newspaper  again.  There  were  the 
scores  of  the  medal  play  at  Shinnecock, 
in  which  he  was  interested. 

Presently  Mr.  Bruce  happened  out  of 
his  private  room,  and  Mr.  Smith  coinci- 
dently  happened  out  of  his. 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Cutting,"  said  Bruce, 
amiably,  "how  about  that  Reed  matter?" 

"It 's  put  over  the  term,"  said  Cutting, 
without  looking  up.  "Here  's  the  stipula- 
tion. Hello!"  he  added,  half  aloud, 
"here  's  Broadhead  winning  at  Newport, 
four  up  and  three  to  play.  That 's  funny. 
Did  you  see  that,  Bruce?  He  's  been  all 
off  his  form,  too." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Bruce. 

The  junior  partners  retired  with  the1 
stipulation,   and   were   closeted   together 
for  a  long  time.    It  puzzled  them.    They 
were  impressed,  and  to  each  other  they 
admitted  it. 

Finally  Mr.  Smith  rose  and  said  that 
he  had  to  go.  "Perhaps  we  have  made  a 


182       THE  MATTER  OF  A  MASHIE 

mistake,"  he  observed.  "There  must  be 
something  to  this  boy.  He  got  this."  He 
waved  the  stipulation. 

"We  had  better  give  him  more  of  a 
chance,"  said  Bruce. 

And  they  did.  Gradually  they  began 
to  comprehend  him,  and  then  to  like  him. 

As  for  Cutting,  he  unbent  himself,  and 
got  interested  in  his  work.  At  the  end  of 
the  six  months  they  spoke  well  of  him,  so 
that  he  continued  on  in  the  firm;  and 
when  he  was  married  they  sent  him  a  very 
beautiful  etching  of  "The  Angelus." 


VI 

THE  MEDAL  OF   HONOR  STORY 

NATURE  had  made  Caswell  short, 
swarthy,  high  cheek-boned,  with 
dark  hair  and  narrow  dark  eyes,  and  for 
ten  years  he  had  been  sitting  at  the  feet  of 
the  Priest  of  Lake  Biwa,  dressing  as  the 
Japanese  dress,  leading  their  life,  and 
thinking  as  far  as  an  Occidental  may  their 
thought.  In  these  ten  years  the  inscru- 
table expression  of  the  East  had  begun  to 
dawn  in  his  eyes.  His  cheek-bones  grew 
more  prominent.  His  nose  had  begun  to 
flatten.  He  was  a  text  for  those  who  hold 
that  the  soul  makes  the  face.  He  could 
also  sit  upon  the  floor  with  his  feet  tucked 
under  him  for  indefinite  periods,  so  that 
it  was  not  strange  that  among  the  Japan- 
ese he  often  passed  as  Nipon  Jin  (Japan- 
ese man). 

One  May  morning  he  was  in  the  Kin- 
185 


186    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

Ka-Kuji,  sitting  by  the  water  on  the  lower 
balcony  of  the  temple,  watching  the  an- 
cient carp  as  they  slowly  wove  and  inter- 
wove among  the  lily  stems,  waiting  to  be 
fed.  He  often  came  to  the  garden  in 
May  because  the  tourists  were  apt  not  to 
be  there  then,  for  they  desert  Kioto  when 
the  summer  heat  has  begun,  and  it  was  his 
habit  to  come  early  in  the  day  because  the 
beauty  of  the  place  renews  itself  with 
each  morning's  dew  and  the  fragrance  of 
the  new  flowers,  as  if  in  the  first  hours  of 
the  day  a  woman  should  be  a  girl  again. 
None  of  Caswell's  friends  knew  what 
the  esoterism  of  Biwa  was  or  was  not; 
whether  the  venerable  one  with  the  shriv- 
eled, monkey-like  face  had  a  sweeter  com- 
munion with  the  eternal  than  others,  or 
was  a  deceiver,  for  the  disciple  never 
wrote  or  spoke  of  his  experience,  but  it 
was  a  fact  that  he  had  acquired  the  calm- 
ness of  the  East  and  that  was  much,  for 
he  had  his  reasons  for  desiring  peace. 
After  his  decade  of  meditation  he  could 
regard  the  hurryings  of  men,  the  catch- 
ing of  trains,  and  the  yoke  of  small  an- 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    187 

noyances  to  which  society  bends  its  neck, 
as  one  inside  watches  the  buzzing  of  un- 
clean flies  against  the  pane  without. 

He  opened  a  book  of  verses  by  a  Jap- 
anese poet  and  gazed  across  the  little, 
many-islanded  lake,  whose  surface  was  a 
sisterhood  of  silver  pools,  each  framed  in 
the  new  green  of  the  young  lotus  pads. 
The  bamboos  on  the  opposite  bank  glis- 
tened faintly  as  the  intermittent  touch  of 
an  unfelt,  unsuspected  breeze  stroked 
their  plumes.  The  air  was  sweet  with 
pine  and  the  pungent  aroma  of  maples  in 
new  foliage,  and  with  perfumes  from  un- 
seen gardens. 

To  Caswell  each  year  of  the  past  ten, 
"More  weary  seemed  the  sea,  weary  the 
oar."  Of  late  the  decision  had  been  ri- 
pening to  shut  the  door  forever  upon  his 
old  world,  and  that  morning  a  divine  ap- 
proval of  his  course  seemed  to  float  into 
his  soul  upon  a  tide  of  peace.  He  closed 
his  eyes  for  a  time ;  then  he  opened  them 
with  a  fresh  thirst  for  the  beauty  of  the 
place.  Suddenly  he  started,  for  he  heard 
a  voice.  It  was  a  woman's  voice,  speak- 


188    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

ing  with  a  cultivated  New  England  in- 
tonation, but  literal  and  unsympathetic. 
His  impulse  was  to  flee. 

"The  temple  is  called  Kin-Ka-Kuji  or 
Roku-onji,"  said  the  voice,  evidently  read- 
ing from  a  guide-book,  "from  Kin-Ka-Ku, 
meaning  golden  pavilion.  In  thirteen 
ninety-seven  Yoshimitsu  retired  from  the 
shogunate — " 

"Auntie,"  interrupted  another  voice, 
"sha'n't  we  shut  the  guide-book?  The 
garden  is  lovely  enough  as  a  garden." 

This  was  a  woman's  voice,  too,  but  soft 
and  young,  with  low,  resonant  tones  that 
brought  a  thrill  to  the  senses  as  some- 
times comes  with  the  breath  of  a  remem- 
bered perfume. 

Caswell  glanced  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye  and  saw  a  party  of  tourists  filing 
toward  the  temple  on  the  path  along  the 
border  of  the  lake.  At  the  head  marched 
a  gray-haired  woman  with  a  kind  but 
somewhat  aggressive  countenance.  She 
carried  an  open  guide-book.  At  her 
heels  was  a  fat,  squat,  shaven-headed 
Japanese  boy,  the  guide.  Behind  him 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    189 

there  was  a  girl.  He  had  only  an  instant's 
glimpse  of  her,  but  he  knew  that  it  was 
the  girl  that  had  spoken;  lithe,  slender, 
exquisite  in  white.  He  looked  across  the 
lake  again,  but  he  looked  without  seeing. 
The  garden  was  full  of  the  sweetness  of 
blue  eyes,  the  softness  of  fair  hair  and  the 
loveliness  of  a  girl's  smile. 

For  a  moment  it  was  as  if  the  priest  of 
Biwa  had  never  been.  His  pulses 
throbbed,  a  choking  seized  his  throat. 
Then  the  habit  of  years  asserted  itself. 
With  an  effort  of  will  his  mind  grew  calm 
and  the  vision  faded.  Again  he  saw  the 
lake,  the  barhboos  upon  the  opposite  shore, 
the  carp  in  the  water  weeds  at  his  feet. 

"What  has  the  circumstance,  the  exter- 
nal, to  do  with  the  abiding  me,  the 
eternal  ?"  he  murmured.  Then  he  looked 
again  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  toward 
the  tourists. 

She  had  stopped  and  was  standing  by 
the  water's  edge,  gazing  across  toward 
the  other  shore.  He  saw  her  mild,  won- 
dering eyes  animated  with  the  delight  of 
the  garden,  the  broad,  low  brow  above 

12 


igo    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

them,  the  lines  of  a  sweet,  firm  mouth 
parted  in  a  smile,  the  gleam  of  white 
teeth,  and  then  behind  her,  what  he  had 
not  noticed  before,  a  great- framed  youth 
with  tow  hair  and  a  frank,  kindly  face 
bronzed  with  a  tropical  sun.  And  as  the 
girl  gazed  across  the  little  lake  the  youth 
gazed  at  the  girl. 

Caswell  brought  his  eyes  back  to  his 
book  of  verses.  His  philosophy  suddenly 
seemed  to  have  grown  more  effective.  He 
smiled  inwardly,  for  an  Occidental  sense 
of  humor  slumbered  in  the  ashes  of  his 
old  self.  Then  he  became  grave  again. 
"Am  I  a  thistledown  upon  the  breeze?" 
he  muttered.  He  repeated  one  of  the 
mental  formulas  which  the  Buddhists  of 
his  sect  used  to  compose  the  mind 
and  open  its  doors  to  the  all-pervasive 
soul. 

The  party  of  tourists  came  on  and 
mounted  the  balcony.  They  passed  him 
before  they  noticed  him,  for  he  was  in 
the  corner  at  the  end.  The  girl  looked 
at  the  view  and  the  young  man  furtively 
watched  the  girl,  but  the  older  woman 
spied  Caswell  sitting  on  the  floor  with  his 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    191 

feet  under  him,  an  open  book  in  his  lap, 
gazing  stolidly  across  the  lake.  Her  curi- 
osity was  aroused. 

"Who  is  that?"  she  said  to  the  fat 
Japanese  boy. 

The  Japanese  boy  sucked  in  his  breath 
and  bowed  low. 

"Yais,  sank  you,"  he  said  laboriously; 
"he  is,  what  you  say,  temple  man." 

"Do  you  mean  a  priest?"  asked  his  in- 
terrogator. 

"Sank  you,  ah,  no,  not  priest,"  sucking 
his  breath  again.  "I  sink  perhaps  priest, 
some  day." 

"Be  careful,  Auntie,"  suggested  the 
girl,  in  a  low  tone.  "You  know  so  many 
of  them  speak  English." 

"I  have  n't  said  anything  to  hurt  his 
feelings,"  she  answered.  "It  's  no  dis- 
grace to  be  a  priest,  for  they  are  not 
exactly  like  other  heathens.  Ask  him," 
she  added  to  the  boy,  "if  he  speaks 
English." 

The  boy  had  often  seen  Caswell,  but 
he  did  not  know  what  he  was  or  whence, 
except  that  he  was  a  friend  of  one  of  the 
priests.  He  put  the  question.  Caswell 


192    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

muttered  something  in  Japanese  without 
looking  up. 

"He  say  he  spek  no  English." 

"There,"  said  the  aunt,  "I  knew  he 
could  n't  understand." 

"You  speak  very  well,"  said  the  girl  to 
the  Japanese  boy. 

The  fat  boy  doubled  over  in  a  bow, 
sucked  his  breath,  and  beamed.  "Ah,  no ! 
Sank  you,"  he  said,  "sank  you  ver'  much." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  the  girl,  smilingly. 
"Where  did  you  learn?" 

"At  Kioto  mission  school,"  he  re- 
sponded. 

"So  you  are  going  to  be  a  missionary," 
said  the  aunt.  "How  interesting!  You 
are  a  good  boy." 

"Sank  you,"  said  the  boy,  "yais,  I  am 
temple  man  boy;  some  day,  perhaps, 
priest." 

"Buddhist  priest?"  repeated  the  aunt 
in  surprise. 

The  boy  sucked  his  breath  and  bowed. 

The  young  man  laughed  quietly. 

"I  think  this  is  rather  extraordinary," 
said  the  aunt. 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    193 

"It  is  rather  the  rule,"  said  the  young 
man.  "The  Japanese  appreciate  our  mis- 
sionary efforts,  only  they  use  them  in 
their  own  way.  It  is  useful  to  have  a 
temple  boy  who  speaks  a  little  Eng- 
lish." 

"Well,"  said  the  aunt,  "it  ought  to  be 
reported  or  something.  I  don't  see  why 
the  people  of  America  should  pay  for  edu- 
cating Buddhist  priests." 

"Neither  do  the  Japanese,"  replied  the 
young  man,  "only  they  accept  what  they 
regard  as  our  eccentricities  without  rais- 
ing questions." 

"The  young  man  seems  to  be  intelli- 
gent," thought  Caswell. 

The  aunt  made  no  reply,  but  stood 
meditating  for  a  few  moments.  Then  she 
opened  the  guide-book,  in  which  she  had 
her  finger  at  the  place. 

"In  the  second  story,  there  are  paint- 
ings by  Kano  Masanobi.  At  the  top  is 
the  golden  pavilion.  We  can  give  it  half 
an  hour.  Take  off  your  shoes,"  she 
added;  "we  must  n't  waste  time." 

She  leaned  against  the  rail   and  ex- 


194    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

tended  a  foot  so  that  the  Japanese  boy 
could  remove  the  shoe. 

The  young  man  began  unlacing  his 
shoes,  but  Caswell  noticed  that  the  girl 
stood  leaning  on  the  rail.  Presently  she 
turned  to  her  aunt. 

"I  think  I  '11  not  go  in,"  she  said. 

The  young  man  stopped  unlacing  his 
shoes,  and  Caswell  saw  that  the  girl 
noticed  it. 

"But,  my  dear  child,"  said  her  aunt, 
"what  an  extraordinary  idea!  You 
must !" 

"No,"  she  said,  gently  but  firmly;  "if 
you  will  let  me,  I  think  I  should  rather 
wait  here.  You  take  Mr.  Williams  and 
show  him  the  pictures  and  explain  them 
to  him." 

"But,"  said  her  aunt,  "I  did  n't  bring 
you  to  Japan  to  sit  on  a  dock  and  look  at 
the  water.  You  could  do  that  at  home." 

"Please  don't  insist,"  said  the  girl,  ap- 
pealingly. 

"But  I  must  insist,"  said  her  aunt. 
"It 's  for  your  own  good." 

"But  you  see  you  don't  understand," 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    195 

said  the  girl,  dropping  her  voice  despair- 
ingly. 

Her  aunt  approached  her.  "Are  you 
ill?"  she  asked.  "Is  anything  the  mat- 
ter?" 

The  girl  put  her  arms  about  her  aunt's 
neck  and  whispered  something  in  her  ear. 

Only  one  word  reached  Caswell, 
though  they  were  close  to  him.  It  was 
the  word  "stocking." 

The  aunt's  face  immediately  grew 
severe.  The  girl  blushed  and  looked 
down. 

Caswell  almost  laughed.  He  under- 
stood. At  least  he  thought  he  under- 
stood. This  exquisite  creature  had  a  hole 
in  her  stocking. 

But  the  big  youth  remained  immov- 
able, like  a  crouching  statue  with  a  shoe- 
lacing  in  his  fingers. 

"It  was  thoughtless  of  you  not  to  have 
taken  care — " 

"Please !"  said  the  girl,  and  she  put  her 
hand  over  her  aunt's  mouth. 

"Well,  it  's  your  own  loss,"  said  the 
aunt.  "I  shall  write  your  mother  about 


Ip6    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

it.  Come,  Mr.  Williams,"  she  added, 
"we  have  no  time  to  waste.  You  know 
these  paintings  are  by  the  old  masters  of 
Japan." 

The  young  man  hesitated.  "I  don't 
think  it  is  civil  to  leave  you,"  he  said, 
clumsily,  to  the  girl. 

"It  's  her  own  fault,"  said  the  aunt. 
"You  must  n't  be  sorry  for  her." 

"She  is  quite  right,"  said  the  girl, 
calmly.  "You  must  go  in  and  see  the 
pictures." 

The  aunt  went  in  and  the  young  man 
followed  without  a  word.  He  was  em- 
barrassed. 

The  girl  turned  to  the  rail  again,  and 
leaning  on  it  gazed  down  into  the  water  at 
the  carp.  She  seemed  contented  to  be 
alone,  and  to  have  the  young  man  with 
her  aunt.  It  surprised  Caswell. 

A  few  feet  away  he  was  sitting  on  the 
floor,  with  his  eyes  seemingly  on  the  book 
in  his  lap.  But  the  page  was  a  blank.  He 
was  stealthily  watching  the  movements  of 
the  girl.  She  had  come  like  a  message 
from  a  far  country — a  country,  after  all, 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    197 

his  own — and  to  him  the  message  was 
what  the  first  smell  of  the  June  clover 
fields  is  to  the  city  man  when  he  goes 
back  to  the  farm  of  his  boyhood. 

How  long  he  sat  in  this  way,  Caswell 
could  not  have  told,  but  suddenly  he  heard 
a  muffled  step  on  the  balcony,  and  he 
knew  that  the  youth  was  coming  back. 
He  knew,  too,  that  the  girl  also  had 
heard  the  step,  for  he  saw  the  color 
deepen  in  the  side  of  her  cheek  and 
throat  and  in  her  little  ear.  But  she 
made  no  move. 

"Simple  one  that  I  am,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "She  knew  that  he  would  come." 

The  youth  made  a  noise  as  he  took  his 
shoes,  and  the  girl  turned. 

"Where  is  auntie?"  she  asked. 

"I  left  her,"  said  the  youth,  coloring. 
"I  should  rather  be  here." 

"It  is  too  bad  that  you  are  missing  the 
pictures,"  she  said. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Have  n't  you  some  biscuits  to  feed  to 
the  fish  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  said.    "The  fat  boy  provided 


ip8    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

us."  He  felt  in  his  pocket  and  handed 
her  several  wafers  of  rice  flour. 

She  broke  one  of  them  and  let  the 
crumbs  fall.  "They  say  these  fish  are 
very  old,"  she  observed;  "hundreds  of 
years,  and  they  come  regularly  to  the 
balcony  to  be  fed.  Think  of  all  the  inter- 
esting people  who  have  thrown  crumbs  to 
them!" 

"Can  you  think  of  any.  one  as  inter- 
esting as  you?"  he  said,  half  playfully. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  continued 
feeding  the  carp.  "That  biggest  one," 
she  observed,  "looks  very  wise.  I  won- 
der if  he  remembers  what  the  Shoguns 
gave  him." 

"Probably  all  crumbs  are  very  much 
alike  to  him,"  said  the  youth. 

He  finished  putting  on  his  shoes  and 
joined  her  by  the  rail. 

"We  ought  to  take  a  walk  about,"  he 
suggested,  after  a  pause.  "There  are  a 
number  of  things  to  see — the  Shogun's 
well,  the  Shogun's  island,  and  the  hill  in 
the  distance,  the  silk  hat  mountain  which 
he  used  to  have  covered  with  white  silk  on 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    199 

hot  July  days  so  that  it  would  look  like 
snow." 

"The  mountain  is  outside  the  garden/' 
said  the  girl.  "It  would  be  too  far  to 
go  to  it.  Anyway,"  she  added,  "I  don't 
think  I  had  better  leave  the  balcony.  You 
see,  auntie  might  come  down.  Where 
are  you  going,  after  you  leave  Kioto?" 
she  asked,  presently. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "There 
are  two  friends  of  mine  in  my  regiment 
coming  up  to  get  rid  of  the  fever.  I  may 
join  them  and  go  into  the  mountains. 
But  I  'm  so  well  now  that  I  really  have  no 
excuse  to  stay  here  much  longer." 

"I  should  think  that  it  would  be  nice  to 
spend  a  summer  in  Japan  with  brother 
officers  whom  you  knew  well,"  she  ob- 
served. 

"Do  you  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "Was  n't  it  odd," 
she  continued,  after  a  pause,  "that  we 
should  meet  you  out  here  when  we  had  n't 
seen  you  for  a  year  and  a  half,  and  then 
on  the  other  side  of  the  world  ?" 

"Yes,   it  was  odd,"   he  said,   but  he 


200    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

smiled  a  little  as  if  to  hint  that  it  was  not 
so  very  odd,  if  one  knew  the  inside  facts. 

"Of  course,  we  had  heard  how  you  had 
been  wounded,"  she  went  on,  slowly,  "but 
we  thought  you  were  still  in  the  Philip- 
pines." 

"I  heard  in  a  letter  from  home,"  he 
said,  "that  you  expected  to  come  to  Ja- 
pan, but  I  did  n't  know  where  you  were 
to  be." 

She  looked  down  at  the  carp  again  and 
crumbled  another  biscuit  for  them.  "You 
promised  last  night,"  she  said,  "to  tell  me 
how  you  won  the  Medal  of  Honor.  Will 
you  tell  me  now  ?" 

Caswell  started  in  spite  of  himself  and 
looked  at  the  youth  with  surprise. 
"Williams!"  he  said  to  himself.  "That 
is  so;  it  was  a  Lieutenant  Victor  Wil- 
liams." He  knew  the  story.  Every  news- 
paper on  the  coast  of  Asia  had  printed  it. 
"It  is  strange,"  he  thought.  "He  is  only 
a  boy." 

Under  the  guise  of  looking  into  the 
water,  he  bent  forward  intently  to  listen. 
He  was  curious  to  hear  that  extraordinary 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    201 

narrative  from  the  young  man's  own  lips. 

"It  does  n't  make  much  of  a  story," 
Williams  replied.  "The  first  thing  we 
knew,  a  lot  of  hombres  got  around  us  and 
cooped  us  up  in  a  stone  church.  Brad- 
shaw,  my  captain,  was  knocked  over  in 
the  first  firing." 

"Killed?"  she  asked. 

"Yes !"  he  said.  "After  that—"  He 
stopped  because  they  heard  her  aunt  call- 
ing his  name  from  the  balcony  overhead. 

"Yes!"  he  answered.     "What  is  it?" 

"I  wondered  where  you  had  gone,"  she 
called  down.  "I  just  missed  you." 

"He  's  telling  me  a  story,"  said  the  girl, 
looking  up. 

"He  ought  to  be  seeing  these  things  of 
Kano  Masanobi,"  her  aunt  replied. 

"You  are  awfully  good  to  worry  about 
me,"  he  said.  "My  mind  is  n't  worth  it." 

She  made  no  reply  and  went  back  into 
the  temple. 

"Please  go  on,"  said  the  girl. 

"Where  was  I?"  he  said.  "Oh,  yes, 
Bradshaw  was  hit  and  we  were  in  the 
church,  and  that  is  about  all  there  was  to 


202    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

it.  We  had  to  stay  there  till  we  were  re- 
lieved." 

"But  you  were  wounded,"  she  said. 

"Yes!"  he  answered.  "It  came  near 
being  serious,  but  it  really  was  funny." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked. 

"You  remember,"  he  said,  "the  last 
summer  that  I  was  home?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  remember  that  I  took  some 
snapshots  of  a  lot  of  you  in  the  sailboat?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "It  was  the  day 
when  you  climbed  part  way  up  the  mast 
and  took  us  in  the  cockpit.  You  never 
sent  me  any  of  the  prints." 

"Is  that  so?"  he  said.  "Well,  you  see 
most  of  them  turned  out  badly,  but  there 
was  one  that  I  found  in  my  kit  when  I 
got  out  to  the  Islands,  and  sometimes  I 
used  to  carry  it  about  in  a  card-case." 
(He  put  his  hand  where  the  left  breast- 
pocket would  have  been  in  a  khaki 
blouse.)  "In  fact,  I  rather  got  into  the 
habit  of  carrying  it,  as  one  gets  into  the 
habit  of  carrying  a  bunch  of  keys  that 
don't  unlock  anything,  or  a  pocket  piece. 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    203 

Besides,  when  it  was  hot  up-country,  it 
was  refreshing  to  have  a  look  at  the  cool 
lake  and  all  you  people  in  the  boat.  Well, 
when  I  was  hit  the  bullet  came  through 
the  left  breast-pocket." 

"And  went  through  the  picture?"  she 
said. 

"That  was  the  funny  part  of  it,"  he 
answered.  "When  we  started  on  this 
particular  hike — " 

"What's  that?"  she  asked. 

"They  call  any  expedition  or  march  a 
hike." 

"Go  on,"  she  said. 

"Well,  when  we  started  I  took  a  blouse 
along,  although  one  generally  hikes  in  a 
blue  shirt  like  the  men."  He  paused  and 
she  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  "But  you 
see,"  he  went  on,  "I  wore  a  soiled  blouse 
and  carelessly  left  the  card-case  at  my 
quarters  in  a  clean  one." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  perplexed  ex- 
pression. "Then  the  bullet  did  n't  go 
through  the  picture  ?"  she  said. 

"No,  that  was  the  joke  on  the  bullet. 
Instead  of  having  the  picture  in  my 


204    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

pocket  what  do  you  suppose  I  did  have  ?" 

She  thought  for  a  moment.  "A 
locket,"  she  suggested,  "or  a  prayer- 
book." 

"No,"  he  said,  smiling,  "a  tooth-brush. 
The  bone  handle  made  the  bullet  glance 
so  that  instead  of  going  through,  it  went 
around  and  did  nothing  worse  than  scrape 
a  few  ribs." 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly  for  a 
moment  and  then  dropped  her  eyes. 

"Would  you  like  to  see  it  ?"  he  asked. 
•    "The  tooth-brush,"  she  queried,  "or  the 
bullet?" 

"No,  the  picture,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

He  fumbled  in  his  breast-pocket  and 
brought  out  a  worn  leather  card-case. 
He  opened  it  and  produced  an  envelop. 
From  the  envelop  he  took  a  small,  un- 
mounted photograph  and  handed  it  to  the 
girl. 

She  studied  it  in  silence  and  a  smile 
broke  over  her  face.  "Is  n't  it  funny  of 
Agnes?"  she  asked.  "She  does  n't  seem 
to  have  any  nose." 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    205 

"That  's  so,"  he  said.  "Do  you  make 
out  Ann,  next  to  George  in  the  stern 
sheets  ?" 

They  leaned  on  the  rail  and  bent  over 
the  faded  print  till  their  heads  almost 
touched. 

"That  's  Bess  next  to  me  in  the 
sweater,"  she  went  on,  "and  there  's 
Winkle." 

"Do  you  remember,"  he  said,  "the 
boom  knocked  him  overboard  just  before 
and  he  would  shake  himself  on  your 
skirt?" 

"Dear  little  dog!"  she  murmured.  "I 
don't  think  my  head  came  out  very  well," 
she  observed,  after  a  pause.  "Something 
must  have  been  the  matter  with  the  film 
or  the  paper.  There  's  a  smudged  spot 
all  over  it." 

"The  climate  is  very  damp  in  the 
Islands,"  he  said.  "Give  it  back  to  me." 

Their  eyes  met  as  she  handed  the  pic- 
ture back  and  she  dropped  hers.  Caswell 
saw  the  color  stealing  into  the  side  of  her 
face  again. 

She   moved   a  step   away   and   gazed 

13 


206    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

down  into  the  water.  "That  big  carp  is 
getting  all  the  crumbs,"  she  said. 

He  handed  her  another  wafer  and  re- 
placed the  picture  in  his  pocket. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  girl 
spoke  first. 

"But  what  did  they  give  you  the 
Medal  of  Honor  for?"  she  said,  slowly 
dropping  crumbs  to  the  fish. 

"That  is  a  question  that  has  puzzled 
me  before,"  he  answered. 

"But  you  must  have  done  something," 
she  said. 

"Well,  there  was  n't  anything  to  eat 
or  drink  in  the  church,"  he  began,  "nor 
anything  in  the  neighborhood  as  far  as 
we  knew,  except  cocoanuts,  and  I  was 
afraid  to  go  out  to  get  them — " 

He  stopped,  for  her  aunt's  voice  was 
calling  again  from  above.  They  looked 
up  and  saw  her  on  the  balcony  of  the 
third  story. 

"Mr.  Williams,"  she  said,  "you  must 
come  up  and  see  the  gold  room." 

"Please,  no,"  he  answered;  "I  've  put 
on  my  shoes." 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    207 

"Yes,  you  must,"  she  insisted.  "I 
sha'n't  come  down  until  you  do." 

"You  had  better  go,"  said  the  girl. 
"She  means  what  she  says." 

"I  '11  be  up  at  once,"  he  called.  He 
took  off  his  shoes  and  went  in. 

The  girl  finished  crumbling  the  wafer 
to  the  carp,  and  watched  them  for  a  time 
as  their  grotesque  mouths  mechanically 
opened  and  shut  upon  the  sinking  flakes. 
Then  she  turned  her  eyes  across  the  lake 
and  embraced  the  prospect  which  Caswell 
had  been  absorbing  when  interrupted  by 
her  coming.  Presently  an  idea  moved 
her,  and  from  a  little  bag  she  produced  a 
gold  pencil  and  a  bit  of  paper  and  found 
a  smooth  place  upon  the  rail.  She  wrote 
a  few  words,  took  a  pin  from  her  dress 
and  fastened  the  paper  to  a  post  as  if  for 
a  sign  to  persons  coming  out  of  the 
temple.  She  glanced  quickly  up,  and  see- 
ing no  one,  slipped  away  around  the  end 
of  the  balcony. 

When  she  was  out  of  sight,  Caswell's 
eyes  went  back  to  his  book  of  verses,  but 
they  carried  no  impressions  from  the 


208    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

page  to  his  brain.  The  thoughts  which 
had  been  aroused  were  insistent.  They 
possessed  him  and  he  sat  and  battled  with 
them.  He  was  distracted  from  his  reverie 
by  the  fluttering  of  the  paper  on  the  pin. 
A  warm  breeze  had  awakened  and  came 
in  mimic  gales  which  rippled  the  pools 
and  set  the  bamboos  on  the  farther  bank 
in  a  silver  shimmer.  After  the  pin  had 
resisted  several  onslaughts,  a  stronger 
ajr  loosed  it  and  sent  the  paper  fluttering 
into  the  water. 

t  Almost  before  it  fell  Caswell  was  on 
his  feet.  Then  he  checked  himself.  "It 
is  not  my  business,"  he  thought.  "Shall 
I  interfere  with  the  course  of  Fate?"  He 
sat  down.  Then  he  rose  again.  "But 
perhaps  I  am  the  minister  of  Fate."  He 
leaned  over  the  rail.  The  paper  was 
slowly  sinking,  but  he  read  under  the  clear 
water,  "I  am  going  to  walk.  Do  you 
want  to  come  ?" 

The  young  man's  stick  was  lying  on 
the  balcony.  He  took  it  and  leaning  over 
the  rail  fished  up  the  wet  paper.  As  he 
.put  his  hand  upon  it,  he  heard  a  footfall, 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    209 

and  turning  saw  the  big  lieutenant  coming 
out  of  the  temple.  He  had  turned  in  time 
to  catch  the  youth's  expression,  as  he 
perceived  that  the  girl  was  not  there. 

"Oh !"  said  the  youth,  awkwardly.  He 
saw  that  something  had  happened. 

Caswell  bowed  in  the  Japanese  manner, 
sucking  his  breath  as  if  to  a  superior,  and 
extended  the  dripping  paper  with  the  in- 
scrutable countenance  which  the  East  hs&L 
taught  him. 

The  youth  read  it  at  a  glance.  "Thank 
you!  Thank  you,  very  much!"  he  said, 
impulsively;  then  remembering  himself, 
he  repeated  his  thanks  in  Japanese: 
"Arigato!  Arigato!  I  understand,"  he 
said,  in  answer  to  Caswell's  gesture  to- 
ward the  water.  "The  wind  blew  it  in. 
You  were  very  good."  He  repeated  the 
Japanese  word  again  and  bowed,  and 
Caswell,  bowing  solemnly,  backed  off  the 
balcony  and  left  him. 

"It  was  best  so,"  he  thought,  when 
he  was  on  the  path  by  the  edge  of  the 
water. 

He  had  come  to  the  priest's  apartments, 


210    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

the  little  palace  where  the  great  Shogun 
had  lived  in  his  retirement,  before  he 
was  conscious  whither  his  steps  were  tak- 
ing him.  His  thoughts  were  across  eight 
thousand  miles  of  sea.  He  looked  around 
him  with  a  start.  "Shall  I  go  in  ?"  he  said 
to  himself.  One  of  the  priests,  although 
of  a  different  sect,  was  his  friend.  On 
the  porch,  a  temple  student  saluted  him. 
He  was  known  because  he  often  came,  not 
only  to  talk  with  his  friend,  but  to  study 
the  screens  of  Kano  Tan  Yuand  Jakuchu, 
and  the  marvelous  folding  screens  painted 
by  Korin  and  Soami,  and  the  kakemonos 
by  those  other  ancient  masters,  Cho  Densi 
and  Shubun  and  Eishin. 

He  took  the  student's  welcome  as  an 
omen  and  slipped  off  his  sandals.  He 
was  ushered  in  and,  after  saluting  his 
friend,  the  temple  tea  was  brought  and 
they  sat  with  it  between  them  and  dis- 
coursed. The  temple  tea  was  not  as  other 
tea,  but  superior.  It  was  a  powder  made 
of  the  tenderest  of  the  young  leaves  of 
certain  choice  plants.  It  possessed  the 
secret  flavors  of  spring,  and  the  property 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    211 

of  making  the  mind  glow  and  the  brain 
crystal  clear  without  racking  the  nerves. 

They  talked  for  a  time,  but  to  Caswell 
it  was  with  an  effort.  His  soul  that  day 
had  no  meeting  with  his  friend,  and  the 
priest  was  aware  of  it.  He  produced  to- 
bacco and  they  lit  the  little  pipes  and,  in- 
haling a  few  whiffs,  sat  in  silence. 

Presently  Caswell  turned  his  head  to 
listen.  Through  the  paper  screen  which 
made  the  partition  wall,  he  heard  the 
girl's  voice;  then  the  voice  of  her  aunt. 
They  were  entering  the  room  next. 

"It  is  a  party  of  foreigners,"  observed 
the  priest.  "They  have  doubtless  been 
generous  to  the  boy.  Liberal  foreigners 
are  sometimes  invited  to  partake  of  the 
temple  tea.  The  tea  money  (chadai) 
goes  to  the  restoration  fund." 

"Is  it  so  ?"  said  Caswell.  He  was  listen- 
ing. 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  never  could  get 
used  to  sitting  on  my  feet,"  said  her  aunt. 

"Poor  auntie!"  said  the  girl,  and  then 
she  laughed,  and  as  she  laughed  Caswell 
held  his  breath.  It  was  a  low,  sweet,  bub- 


212    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

bling  laugh ;  the  laughter  that  is  com- 
pelled by  happiness  in  the  heart,  just  as 
a  fountain  bubbles  under  a  pressure  of 
crystal  water. 

A  moment  later  came  the  deeper  tones 
of  a  man's  voice,  also  laughing,  and  the 
echo  of  the  same  happiness  was  in  them. 

Caswell  smiled  and  a  mist  came  into  his 
eyes.  He  understood.  He  looked  at  the 
old  priest,  and  he  too  was  smiling. 

"The  young  foreign  lady  has  an  agree- 
able voice,"  observed  the  priest.  "Unlike 
most." 

"Unlike  most  who  travel  here,"  said 
Caswell,  "she  is  of  an  honorable  family." 

"Friends,  no  doubt,  of  your  honorable 
family,"  suggested  the  priest. 

"No,"  said  Caswell.  He  realized  that 
he  did  not  even  know  her  name.  "But  I 
know,"  he  continued.  "One  may  know 
by  the  voice  and  the  speech." 

"Assuredly,  with  us,"  said  the  priest, 
"but  I  had  thought  that  all  families  in 
America  were  equal." 

"Yes  and  no,"  replied  Caswell,  ab- 
sently. He  had  no  mind  for  explaining 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    213 

the  American  system  then.  He  was  listen- 
ing, for  they  were  laughing  again,  al- 
though there  seemed  no  reason  for  laugh- 
ter in  the  conversation. 

Presently  Caswell  rose  and  began  his 
leave-taking,  and  the  priest  accompanied 
him  to  the  porch  where  he  had  left  his 
sandals.  Beside  the  sandals  they  saw 
three  pairs  of  shoes. 

There  was  a  pair  of  heavy  men's  walk- 
ing shoes,  a  pair  of  woman's  shoes  of  the 
type  known  as  "common-sense,"  and  a 
third  pair  on  which  Caswell's  eyes  rested. 
These  were  little  Russia  leather  things, 
not  new  but  with  the  workmanship  and 
fine  lines  of  the  Oxford  Street  bootmaker, 
and  they  had  the  air  of  well-being  which 
comes  from  proper  trees  and  the  care  of 
an  expert  maid. 

"It  is  a  curious  custom  of  the  foreign- 
ers to  make  shoes  out  of  leather,"  ob- 
served the  priest. 

"It  is,  is  it  not?"  said  Caswell,  but  ab- 
sently, for  through  the  half -open  wall 
panel  he  saw  the  party  seated  on  the  mat- 
ting around  the  fire-pot  which  the  fat 


214    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

temple  boy  had  just  deposited.  The 
young  man  and  the  girl  were  sitting  next 
one  another.  The  aunt  was  examining 
a  screen.  Their  backs  were  turned  to 
him,  so  that  Caswell  could  look  without 
being  seen.  Suddenly,  as  he  gazed  at  the 
little  shoes,  an  idea  came  to  him  and  he 
smiled. 

The  fat  boy  was  coming  out  on  his  way 
for  the  tea  and  cakes,  and  as  he  passed 
Caswell  stopped  him. 

The  boy  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"Did  you  remove  the  shoes  of  the 
honorable  young  foreign  lady?"  he  in- 
quired. 

The  boy  bowed  again  and  replied  that 
he  had  indeed  been  so  honored. 

"In  the  foot  of  the  stocking  of  the 
young  foreign  lady,"  inquired  Caswell, 
"was  there  not  a  hole?" 

"Not  the  least  hole,"  replied  the  fat 
boy,  wonderingly. 

"No  hole?  Are  you  sure?"  said  Cas- 
well. 

"None,"  said  the  boy. 

"Thank  you,  that  is  all,"  said  Caswell, 


1 


'  Did  you  remove  the  shoes  of  the  honorable  young  foreign  lady  ? 


THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY    217 

gravely.  He  looked  at  the  little  shoes 
again.  "Simple  one  that  I  am,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"Is  it  true,"  inquired  the  priest,  "that 
foreign  Women  wear  stockings  above  their 
ankles  and  of  colored  fabrics?" 

Caswell  made  no  reply  for  a  moment. 
The  girl  was  speaking. 

"But  you  never  told  me  what  you  did 
to  win  your  medal,"  she  said. 

"It  is  true,"  said  Caswell,  in  reply  to 
the  priest's  question. 

"But  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  the 
girl. 

"I  finally  got  up  the  courage  to  go  out 
after  the  cocoanuts,"  said  the  youth, 
"after  I  was  good  and  hungry." 

"But  what  else?"  said  the  girl. 

"But  that  was  all — on  my  word,"  said 
the  youth,  and  they  fell  to  laughing  again. 

"It  is  a  curious  custom,"  observed  the 
priest,  referring  to  the  stockings. 

"It  is,"  said  Caswell,  politely,  "is  it  not  ? 
And  now  I  must  depart,"  he  added. 

He  bowed  his  farewell.  "Sayonara!" 
he  said,  "Sayonara!" 


218    THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR  STORY 

"Sayonara!"  said  the  priest,  bowing-. 
"You  will  come  soon  again?" 

Caswell  straightened  up.  "I  forgot  to 
tell,"  he  said.  "I  shall  not  return  soon. 
I  am  going  to  my  own  country." 

"Indeed,  is  it  so?  Is  it  so?"  said  the 
priest,  gently.  He  bowed  again  and 
wished  him  the  good  wishes  suitable  to 
such  a  parting. 

"Sayonara!"  said  Caswell.  Then  he 
walked  toward  the  wicket  gate  that  led 
out  of  the  garden. 

"He  got  up  the  courage  to  go  out  after 
the  cocoanuts,"  he  murmured,  as  he 
walked  away.  He  quickened  his  steps, 
but  once  he  turned  and  looked  back,  for 
he  heard  their  low,  rippling  laughter 
again. 


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